Third Year in Harmony
by jlluh
Summary: The Great Firebolt Debacle of Harry's third-year shakes out differently, and the whole year is affected. H/Hr. Mild Ron bashing. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1: Flashback to Maturity

**Chapter 1: Flashback to Maturity**

When Professor McGonagall left the Gryffindor Common Room with Harry's Firebolt, Ron rounded on Hermione, livid. "What did you go running to McGonagall for?!" he said.

Hermione threw her book aside. She was pink in the face, but stood up and faced Ron defiantly.

"Because I thought — and Professor McGonagall agrees with me — that the broom was probably sent to Harry by Sirius Black."

Ron said, "Why the bloody hell would he do that?!"

"He probably jinxed it to kill Harry."

"How did he get a Firebolt? With what money? It's not as if he could walk into a shop and buy a broom!"

Hermione said, "He escaped Azkaban, and he's escaped capture for months. He's very resourceful."

Ron said, "They're stripping it down. A Firebolt. Because you're paranoid and went running to the Professors at the drop of a hat! And now what's Harry going to fly? Do you want Gryffindor to win the Quidditch Cup or not!"

"Quidditch isn't really important, Ron!"

Ron gaped, shocked by such sacrilege, and Harry opened his mouth to tell her off.

And he remembered the end of his first year, when Hermione and Ron had been saying that if he went out of bounds again, he'd be expelled, and he had said that that didn't really matter. What mattered was stopping Voldemort from getting the stone.

And Sirius Black wasn't Voldemort, but someone dying, even if it was him, compared to a Quidditch match... What would he think if it were Hermione? The Quidditch match hardly mattered at all, next to that.

Harry said, "Ron, let me talk to her."

"But-"

"Ron. My broom. My conversation. Hermione, why do you think Sirius Black jinxed the broom?"

She raised her chin. "You said yourself you have no idea who sent it. And trying to kill you while you're on a broomstick wouldn't exactly be original. First year, Quirrell tried to kill you while you were playing Quidditch. Second year, Dobby jinxed a bludger to break your arm, and already this year, you nearly died playing Quidditch when the Dementors attacked. Almost dying is a regular part of Quidditch for you."

Harry wanted to disagree with that. Wanted to dismiss it. Because he was sure the broom was fine. He felt the broom was fine. But then, his first year, he'd been sure Snape was after the stone, and second year, he'd been sure Malfoy was the Heir of Slytherin. His feelings had been wrong plenty before. And this was Hermione, who'd been with him in the Forbidden Corridor, who'd figured out before anyone else that Slytherin's monster was a basilisk.

Harry grabbed her by the shoulders and sat on a sofa, pulling her onto the sofa next to him.

Harry's voice was tense and clipped as he tried to sound calmer than he was. "I don't like this. I don't like this at all. For a few hours, I owned a Firebolt. Best broom in the world. Now it's been taken. I don't like that. But you're right. Black might've sent it. I think he didn't, but it makes some sense, and I'd rather not fall a hundred feet and die, so it's good it's being checked. I should've thought of that. I'm glad you thought of that. Thank you for worrying about me."

Harry let her hear a little of how upset he was, resisting the urge to shake her. "What I'm angry about is that you didn't tell me. If you'd told me you thought Black had sent it, I might've needed a few hours to come around to the idea, but I hope I would've agreed that we should have the Professors check it over. And if I'd been too foolish for that, you could've said, 'Sorry Harry. I don't have any choice, this is for your own good, I have to tell a Professor.'

"Instead, you ran off to Professor McGonagall without talking to me first. It's like you don't trust me." He took a deep breath. "Why did you do that? What were you thinking when you decided to treat me like a little kid?"

Harry had expected her to give reasons. He'd been preparing himself for the sort of screaming row she had with Ron once or twice a month. He hadn't expected her to burst into tears and hug him.

She said, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, I was only..." A sob broke her sentence apart, and she wiped from for nose with her sleeve, stared at sleeve for a horrified moment, and continued. "I wasn't thinking. I mean I was, but not about that. I just wanted you be safe, and I was so sure I was right, and that when I came here with Professor McGonagall and revealed it all, you'd be impressed."

She wanted to impress him? Her? What?

Eyes and nose red, more snot running out her nose, Hermione sobbed, "We're still friends, aren't we?"

Harry patted her awkwardly. "Of course we're still friends. You've apologized. Just promise me that next time you'll talk to me first if it has to do with me."

As they spoke, Ron turned white in the cheeks and red in the ears, expression twisting between fear and anger.

"I promise," said Hermione. She wiped her face with a handkerchief, then buried her head in his chest. He felt the wetness of more tears on his shirt, and heard her sniffling to keep what snot remained in her sinuses, in her sinuses.

Though a little unsure, Harry brought his arms around her back, holding her loosely.

Ron said, "Are you serious? That's it? She gets your Firebolt confiscated and all she has to do is cry and say she's sorry?"

Harry said, "I'm still upset, but she had a good reason. She made a mistake, but it's not as if I'm going to stop being her friend over it."

Ron said, "You're just being soft on her because she's getting tits."

Harry froze, and Hermione looked up red-eyed from the hug. "Excuse me?" she said.

"You heard me. Harry, she's crying on purpose. Girls do that. She's the one who betrayed you, and five minutes later you're the one comforting her."

Harry said. "Ron, don't be stupid."

"You're the one who's being stupid," said Ron. "I'm just telling you the truth, and she's trying to make you side with her. Charlie told me this would happen as we got older. But blokes before birds. She betrays us, and it's fine?"

Hermione said, "I didn't betray you! I was trying to keep Harry safe. So what, you want me to do penance? Okay. How about I help you both with your homework? Oh, wait, I already do that."

Ron said, "You mean you like lording it over us what a good student you are!"

Harry said, "Can you both just calm down?"

Ron said, "Siding with her, are you?"

Harry said, "I'm not siding with anyone. I'm waiting for you to calm down."

Ron snorted and stalked out the portrait hole. Harry wondered if he should chase after him, but Ron had his moods. It was best to let him cool down on his own. They'd be back to normal by the end of the night, no doubt.

#

#

That night, in their dorm, as they changed into their pajamas, Ron said, "Still getting on with Hermione?"

Harry said, "Sure. I'm a little worried about her. Taking all those classes. It's too much."

"Not worried about Scabbers though, are you? What, with the way Hermione's little monster keeps trying to kill him. She ought to get rid of it."

Harry said, "You're still on about that? If it worries you so much, we'll all get together in the library and work out a way to keep Scabbers safe. There must be a charm for it."

Ron said, "Back to the library, and let Hermione tell me what to do? You might be happy letting her order you around, but I'm not. She's always telling us what to do, she betrayed us to a Professor and got your Firebolt _stripped down,_ and she doesn't care that her cat is trying to eat my rat. So. Her or me."

"Did you hit your head?"

"You're choosing her?"

Harry said, "I'm not choosing her. I'm waiting for you to stop being a stupid git."

"Stupid, am I?"

"You're acting like it."

"And you're acting like a ball-less pansy." With that, Ron slipped into bed, rolled away from Harry, and studiously ignored Harry's attempts to re-start the conversation.

Eventually, Harry fell silent, and hours later, despite his racing mind, fell asleep.

#

#

The next day, with Ron still in a huff, Harry went with Hermione to the library, still trying to figure out why one friend wouldn't forgive him for forgiving the other. It wasn't even Ron's broom.

He shook the musings from his head and took out his holiday homework. He had a fair bit left, and Hermione had loads left despite her having worked on it a lot more than he had.

Harry said, "I still don't understand how you're getting to all those classes."

"I have a way."

"What way?"

"I promised Professor McGonagall I wouldn't tell anyone."

"Well, if you promised Professor McGonagall..." He let the thought hang, letting it ask for him who she was more loyal too, letting it imply she owed the truth to him after running to McGonagall about his Firebolt.

Hermione groaned and looked around, checking to be sure no one was near. She leaned forward and whispered, "I have a Time Turner. It lets me go back in time a few hours, so I can be in two classes at once."

Harry digested that. His voice was thick. "You have a time machine and you're using it for classes. What about my parents, or-"

"It doesn't work like that. A day is a single unit of time. It's a work in progress until it's over, but then it's saved. And even within a day, you can't change what's already happened. Say I go to Arithmancy, and when Arithmancy is out, I use my Time Turner to go back two hours and go to Care. But when I'm in Arithmancy, I'm already in Care. I've already done what I've yet to do."

Hermione explained it further, and Harry started to get it. There were moments where it seemed very clear, and then the clarity would pop, like a soap bubble, but even then, he had the idea. Time travel couldn't the change the past, but it could change the present, which could be very useful.

Harry said, "I still think it's odd you're using it to take extra classes. Why not drop one?"

"I couldn't do that!" said Hermione.

"What about Divination? Useless class. I wish I'd signed up for anything else. I'll drop it with you."

"You can't drop it. You have to carry at least two electives into your OWL year. That's why even if you only wanted two, you should've signed up for three, and then after a few weeks dropped the one you liked least. I would've told you that last year if I hadn't been petrified."

Harry said, "Do you think I could switch to a different class?" He'd been toying with the idea, but not seriously. Ron would flip if he 'abandoned him,' but Ron had already flipped.

Hermione said, "You can only switch classes in the first two weeks. So no. I suppose you could switch next year, but you'd be in a younger year class."

In a class with students a year younger, none of whom he'd know, probably. It sounded horrible. But the thought of spending another two years in Professor Trelawney's stuffy tower, listening to her predict his death, sounded worse. Harry said, "Tell me about these other classes."

"Well, Arithmancy is my favorite. It's predicting the future with numbers. A lot of it's like muggle mathematics. In a way, predicting the future is mostly what muggles use math for too. 'If 'If I sell this many cars for this much and each car costs this much to sell, how much money will I make? What will the tensile strength of the steel bar be if it's made this thick? When will this bridge get old and fall down?' But with magic, there's other maths too, like numerology. There's a very famous result saying that You-Know-Who will probably come back one day. It was too complicated for me, but Professor Vector says it's sound, though not certain."

"Arithmancy says Voldemort will come back?"

"It says he'll probably come back. Unlike Divination, Arithmancy is logical and verifiable, even if lacking in details in some cases. And Professor Vector is great."

Hermione continued, "Muggle Studies is good too. Professor Burbage is a pureblood or near enough, but she's lived as a muggle in different countries, and she's been to muggle Universities for politics and engineering, so, in a lot of ways, she knows more than we do about the muggle world, and she has such an interesting perspective on it. I'd never realized how strange and horrible the muggle food supply is.

Hermione said, "Ancient Runes with Professor Babbling is a lot of memorization. The first two years, it's mostly just memorizing different rune systems. But eventually you get to use it for magic. Mainly for making charms last, but for all sort of other things too you that you wouldn't think of. The theory is very interesting.

Hermione said,"Divination is useless, and I love Hagrid, but you have to admit he's having trouble his first year on the job, so it's ended up that you're taking the two worst electives."

Hermione gave him a look as if to say that was his fault for not looking into them properly, and returned to her charms essay.

Harry pulled over her books for her electives, and skimmed them. After an hour during which Hermione quietly worked, Harry said, "I'll tell Professor McGonagall I'd like to take Runes next year instead of Divination if you'll come with me and tell her you'd like to drop Divination."

"That's playing dirty," said Hermione.

"You shouldn't be taking so many classes. The bags under your eyes were getting deeper and deeper before the break. And doesn't using the time turner make you get older quicker?"

"I lost a month last year to being petrified by the basilisk, and I only add a few hours a week, so even by the end of the year I won't be back to my actual age. Besides, Professor McGonagall gave this to me because she believed I could take extra classes. I don't want to disappoint her." But he could tell she was tempted, and if she was tempted, she'd already been thinking about it.

Harry said, "So apologize a lot and say I bullied you into it. And won't you still need the Time-Turner, so it won't be for nothing? Come on. You know you want to. All we've learned in Divination is that it's a bloody waste of time."

"Language," said Hermione, but she bit her lip, mulling it over. She said, "I did last a whole term at least. If I did drop it, Christmas vacation would be the perfect time."

#

#

Professor McGonagall looked at the two of them. She said, "No, I quite understand. Far be it from me to speak ill of a fellow Professor, but her class may not be the most productive use of your time, Miss Granger. I was wondering if you might do this."

Hermione said, "I feel horrible because you went to all that trouble to get me that..." she stopped, paling.

"You told me Mr. Potter about it?"

Hermione nodded, looking apologetic. "He kept asking me about how I was getting to classes."

"Have you told anyone else? Perhaps Mr. Weasley?"

"No. Just Harry."

Professor McGonagall pointed a finger at Harry. "If you use it to get in trouble, it will be Miss Granger and I who are punished for it more than you."

"I won't," said Harry. "And even if I wanted to, Hermione wouldn't let me. It took months for her to even tell me about it."

"I'll hold you both to it. Miss Granger, I'll put your drop notice through today." Professor McGonagall looked at them expectantly, waiting for them to leave, and Hermione nudged Harry.

Harry said, "Er, Professor. I was thinking. I don't like Divination very much. I know it's too late to switch classes, but I was wondering if next year I could take third-year Runes instead."

Professor McGonagall said, "Why Ancient Runes?"

Harry said, "It might be nice to learn more about the muggle world, but I know enough about it already. I looked over Hermione's Arithmancy book, and it made my head hurt." He'd imagined long nights in the common room, banging his head on the table as he tried to figure out what in the devil 'X' was. "Runes had a lot of memorization, but memorizing is simple, even if it is hard, and the introduction to the theory was interesting." Not an equation in sight.

Professor McGonagall said, "Mr. Potter, we would not normally allows transfers at this late date. But I perhaps I should've told you earlier that the student whose death she predicts at the beginning of the year transfers or drops almost invariably. That you did not was something of a curiosity."

With a rush of horror, Harry realized Professor McGonagall was about to make another exception for him.

Professor McGonagall said, "I can well understand that the Divination classroom might be a substandard environment for you. If you're willing to put in the work to catch up, I would be willing to speak to Professor Babbling and allow you to transfer now, at the start of spring term."

Harry did not like that idea. Having to study desperately to catch up on what others had had months to learn. He'd rather stick it out in Divination. But Professor McGonagall was offering to bend over backward for him, and he didn't feel comfortable saying no, so he said, "That would be great."

#

#

When they were back at the common room, Harry said, "Merlin. What have I gotten myself into?" He stared at the Runes book in his hands. He'd been instructed to purchase his own by owl order, but for now he was being allowed to use one of the school's spares, which were kept in the Deputy Headmistress's office.

Hermione said, "I'll help you."

That sounded wonderful. Hermione would help him. She'd pound it all into his head while he sat there like a great unresisting sponge. But she still looked tired, blue half-circle under her eyes, even during Christmas vacation.

Harry said, "No. You have four electives. I want you to sleep and relax more, not replace your fifth elective with helping me. What chapter did the first term take you up through?"

"Chapter 12," Hermione said, "Plus most of the glossary and appendix."

"First I'll read up through chapter 12, then the glossary and appendix, then I'll borrow your notes, and when I've copied them, maybe I'll ask you for help."

He opened to the introduction and sat down to maul his way through it, already regretting speaking to McGonagall.

:::

This story is complete on my hard drive. I had a scene from third-year of Mentordora that, as I thought about second year, I realized didn't fit. So I thought I'd expand it into a 2 or 3k oneshot.

It's ended up being about 30k words. I'll publish a chapter most days until it's all published.

PoA is my favorite Harry Potter book, but I've always hated how Hermione is frozen out for two months in it. Fourth year is not the first time Ron abandons a friend over something stupid, and in third-year Harry goes along with it.

I don't much like Ron, but I don't hate him. He has good traits. This will not end up being as much of a Ron bash as it at first appears to be.

I read a lot of Harry/Hermione fics, but I'm not committed to the pairing. In my mind, 5th-7th year Harry and Hermione have a comparability score of about 65-70%, whereas as Hermione and Ron have a comparability score of about 30%. Draco's a git, Sirius and Lupin are too old, and I can't tell the twins apart. I love Hermione, and want the best for her, so I end up not knowing who, other than Harry, to put her with.

This is a Harry/Hermione story.


	2. Chapter 2: Sorting out the Sorting

**Sorting out the Sorting**

Ron continued avoiding Harry and Hermione, so Harry spent most of his time in the library with Hermione, doing homework and furiously trying to catch up on Runes.

He was relieved when the rest of the school returned from break. He didn't feel right asking Hermione to goof off with him, considering how much she had to do, and he was happy to have other people to talk to.

But Ron took to hanging out with Dean and Seamus as soon as they returned, which left Harry hanging out with Neville, who was pathetically easy to beat at both chess and Exploding Snap, and he couldn't talk about Quidditch very well either.

Mostly, Neville talked about plants, which wasn't the sort of thought-free fun and games stress relief Harry had been looking for.

Just when Harry thought Ron was about to come around, the term re-started. The first Divination class took place on the very first day, and Harry didn't go.

Ron found him in the common room after dinner and said, "Where were you at Divination today?"

"Runes," said Harry, gesturing at the book. It turned out he was even further behind than he'd thought he would be, and Professor Babbling wanted him to make up everything he'd missed. He had a long list of old homework assignments to complete.

Harry said, "I didn't think Divination was much use, and I didn't like how kept saying I'd die, so I switched."

"Unbelievable," said Ron.

"I know. I didn't think they'd let me switch so late either. It's really hard. I wish I hadn't switched, but I think later I'll be glad I did."

"And Hermione dropped it, huh? Did you convince her to?"

Harry said, "Yeah. It took some doing, but she really was working too hard and I think she wanted someone to talk her into it. It usually isn't that easy to get her to change her mind."

"So now you're in Runes with Hermione. Abandoning me."

"It's not about abandoning you, Ron. I'm abandoning the class. We still have every other class together."

Ron said, "I'm the one who suggested we take Divination."

"And it could be a very good class if it had a different Professor." Maybe.

"You're just choosing Hermione again."

"What is this with you and the choosing? Give it a rest. Just say sorry to Hermione, she'll say sorry back, and that'll be it."

"What do I have to say sorry for?"

"I don't know, saying she betrayed us, cried on purpose, and used her 'tits' to get me to forgive her. She's Hermione, Ron. I don't even think of her that way."

Ron said, "I was partnered with Lavender today, in Divination."

"I would've thought you'd be with Neville."

"Well, I wasn't. Everyone kept asking me where you and Hermione were, since I'm your best friend, and I couldn't even tell them, because you didn't tell me you were dropping the class."

"That's because you've been avoiding me. So, stop avoiding me. Let's make up." He stuck out a hand, and thought for a moment Ron would shake it, but Hermione came down the stairs into the common room, clutching her book bag. She froze when she saw the two of them together. Harry motioned her forward so they could make up, and Ron glared at her and left.

Hermione sighed and sat at their usual table, pulling out her potions book and essay.

Harry said, "What is his problem? He'll come back to us, won't he?"

"Definitely. He loves being your friend."

"It's not like I haven't apologized plenty, and I'm not even sure what I'm apologizing for. It's his turn to apologize. I understand being a little upset, but this is way overboard."

Hermione pushed her homework aside. "I think he's jealous of me. To Ron, you and he are best mates, and I'm the third member of the trio, the bookworm, the _homework help._ " She said that bitterly. "I don't mean that he only pretended to be my friend for homework, because I think he really does like me, or at least he did, but he thinks he's the best friend, not me, and it looks to him like you're choosing me over him. Doesn't he keep being angry at you for choosing me over him?"

Taking the seat across from her, Harry said, "You're both my best friend. I'm not choosing you over him. He's being a git and I'm not going along with it. I've told him that."

Hermione said, "He doesn't want to hear that he and I are both your best friend. He wants to be first."

Harry said, "What, just because I made friends with him two months earlier? If he hadn't been being such a git to you in first year, I probably would've made friends with you before the troll."

Hermione brightened. "Really? I always thought you thought I was annoying."

"I did," Harry admitted. "Sometimes. Especially the night of the duel. You were very interfering. But I also thought you were interesting, and impressive, sort of. I didn't dislike you. I was telling Ron he ought to apologize to you even before the troll."

Hermione' smile was huge. "Really?"

"Really," said Harry.

"You have no idea how much that means to me. You and Ron were my first real friends, and it's bothered me that we only became friends because we were nearly killed by a troll together."

Harry wasn't sure if what he was about to say was true, but he wanted it to be true. "You, Hagrid and Ron were my first real friends, and I only took so long to become friends with you because Ron disliked you on sight. If he'd been sorted into Hufflepuff, I bet we would've been friends within a week of the start of the year."

Hermione absolutely beamed and leaned across the table to give him a big hug. Sitting back in her chair, she raised an eyebrow and said, "Ron, in Hufflepuff?"

Harry thought about that. Hardworking and loyal. Until the past week, he would've thought the loyal bit fit, but now... "The Hat sorted him immediately. He's Gryffindor through and through."

Hermione said, "We were both under it for a long time. It said I could be in any house I wanted. At first I wasn't happy I chose Gryffindor, but now I am."

She looked at him expectantly. Harry wished he hadn't brought the subject up. She was wondering what other house the hat had thought about putting him in. He considered lying, but whispered instead, "It wanted to put me in Slytherin. It said I would be great there." He stared at the table, afraid to see her reaction, wishing he hadn't admitted to that.

Hermione said, "Slytherin? I would've guessed Hufflepuff. Well, if you do have Slytherin traits, you should show them more."

Harry raised his eyes and was confused by how remarkably unconcerned she looked and sounded.

Hermione said, "The problem with Slytherin is the pureblood ideology. You're not a bloodpurist, so that's not why the Hat wanted to put you there. The rest is being ambitious and cunning. Having big goals and pursuing them cleverly. Those are good traits, but I'm not sure I've ever noticed you showing them. You must have them, or the hat wouldn't have wanted to put you in Slytherin, so dig them out of whatever mental storage place you've put them in."

Harry gaped at her. The fact that the Hat had nearly put him in Slytherin had always been a shameful secret. Ron, if he heard, would be horrified, and Harry had long tried to suppress whatever parts of his mind had made the Hat consider him for Slytherin.

Hermione said, "But I'm very glad it didn't put you there. We probably wouldn't be friends." She shivered. "I'd still be wishing I'd asked for Ravenclaw instead, like I did the first two months."

Hermione in Gryffindor without him? He felt cold imagining it. Would she have any friends? Would Ron still be being a git to her? He imagined her lonely and bullied, probably forming a sad little not-quite-friendship with Neville. He imagined her killed by a troll, because he wouldn't have known to find her and Ron wouldn't have gone looking on his own.

Harry said, "I'm glad it put us together."

#

#

At the end of their Defence class, Harry made an appointment with Professor Lupin for his first anti-dementor lesson, to take place Thursday evening at 8 o'clock.

As Harry and Hermione left the classroom together, Harry commented that Lupin still looked poorly.

"Hmm," said Hermione, in the infuriating way she had that suggested that she knew what he didn't but should and was impatiently waiting for him to figure it out, which he ought to because it was very obvious.

"Could you not say hmm like that?"

"Like what?"

Harry sighed. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong with Professor Lupin?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Does he have cancer?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to tell anyone else. Not even Ron, once we start talking again."

"Okay..."

She led him into an abandoned classroom, closed the door, locked it with Calloportus, and said, "Considering that Astronomy is a core class here, it's incredible more people haven't noticed, but Professor Lupin misses classes around the time of the full moon, and only around the full moon."

The idea tumbled through his mind, clattering against several walls before coming to a rest. "You think Professor Lupin is a werewolf?"

"Definitely. That's why Professor Snape had us learn about werewolves in Defence. That's why he's brought up the wolfsbane potion in his potions class. That must be the potion he's been giving Lupin. It lets werewolves keep their minds even once they've turned and it makes the transformation easier, but it makes them sick beforehand and after. He has all the symptoms."

Harry didn't know much about werewolves. What he'd picked up from muggle telly and a few off-hand comments Ron had made. Snape had done a lecture on them, but he hadn't listened, on the basis of it being Snape lecturing.

Hermione said, "Professor Lupin's hair is greying prematurely, he has very thick hair on his hands and arms, and I think his hearing and smell are unusually good. I've looked, and he usually has rare steak at dinner. And his boggart is the full moon, of course. It would also explain why such a capable wizard is in such ratty clothes. He can't get work."

Harry said, "But he's still a good person, right?"

"It's not his fault he got bit. He becomes really dangerous the night of the full moon, and the nights before and after. So what? The wizarding prejudice against werewolves is horrible. But I'm afraid he won't be back next year. I can't be the only one who's noticed, and eventually someone will tell someone who will tell everyone. And you really shouldn't tell Ron. I don't think he'd take it well."

"You really think Lupin would be fired if people found out?"

"I think so. Most of the books say really horrible things about werewolves."

Harry said, "Snape clearly knows, so Professor Dumbledore must know too." With that thought, whatever tiny smidgen of doubt he had was resolved. If Dumbledore didn't care that Lupin was a werewolf, then Harry didn't care either.

#

#

When Harry reached the common room fresh off his first Patronus lesson with Professor Lupin, it was quite late, and Hermione was alone in the common room, doing homework.

She said, "How was it? You look pale."

"Turns out my boggart is a dementor. Professor Lupin had one, so I got to practice with a dementor, almost. Professor Lupin gave me chocolate to help."

She looked concerned. "Better practice hard. If you spend real time in a dementor's company you'll be worse off than I was before I dropped Divination."

Harry said, "He didn't mention practicing any outside the sessions."

Hermione said, "It should go without saying. He's a Professor using his free-time to help you. The least you can do is practice on your own."

"Between classes, catching up on Runes, and Quidditch, I don't have a lot of time."

Hermione said, "Still more time than I have. Five minutes here, ten minutes there, it adds up." She looked at her homework planner. "I have ten minutes before I have to get back to this, so hurry and show me the spell."

Harry said, "It's called the Patronus Charm. Professor Lupin says it's very advanced. If you do it right, you create an animal guardian, called a Patronus. The Incantation is Expecto Patronum, and this is the wand movement." He showed her.

"The spell itself..." He cast through his mind for a different happy memory. Inspired by present company, he thought of how pleased he'd been to see Hermione and Ron in Diagon Alley near the end of summer. But thinking of Ron was complicated, so when he cast the spell, he thought solely of Hermione, seeing her outside Florean Fortescue's ice-cream parlor, waving frantically, skin browned by her time at the beach, Ron mentally clipped from the image.

 _"Expecto Patronum,"_ Harry said, and an unresolved mist of silver light came out his wand.

Fighting to maintain it, Harry said, "It's easier without facing a boggart. This is the best I've managed, and it's the not so useful form."

Hermione rose, wand out. "Show me again."

:::

H/Hr is starting.

It's possible the Sorting Hat thought Harry would be good in Slytherin purely it was detecting the horcrux without knowing what it was, but I choose to believe that Harry really did have strong Slytherin traits. In which case... where the hell were they through 7 books?

I've always thought Hermione is more of a Hufflepuff than a Ravenclaw, but she would prefer Ravenclaw.

Pretty please, with sugar on top, check out my original book, Monstrosity, by JLL, on amazon. It's in the books department. Werewolves, witches and vampires are all after an old magic tree, and a very Slytherin (but righteous) human boy is caught in the middle.


	3. Chapter 3: Patronus Memory

**Patronus Memory**

January wore on.

Hermione was much better off than in the first term. She'd only been using her Time Turner for her classes themselves. What had been wearing her down more than the few extra hours per week was the amount of homework, combined with her absolute refusal to turn in any homework that was less than perfect, and so the lack of Divination homework was making a greater impact on her than the mere lack of Divination class.

Harry, mindful of her load, was making a concerted effort to re-read the relevant portion of the text whenever he felt the urge to ask her to explain something. As a result, when he did ask her, it more often ended up being conversations about complicated matters the textbook had skimmed over rather than the basic idea, so Harry supposed their doing homework together had become less like being tutored and more like a friendship where one friend was smarter and more knowledgeable than the other.

And of course, she wasn't spending any time at all helping Ron with his homework.

Ron was still ignoring them except to glare, and was making a great show of how much fun he was having with Seamus and Dean. As a result, Harry had little to do in the boy's dorm other than read or talk to Neville, and Neville didn't talk about a whole lot other than Herbology.

Harry talked to his team-members about Quidditch, and while it was relaxing to play chess against people who didn't quickly and mercilessly massacre him whenever he put a piece wrong in his opening moves, he missed Ron. Ron was his second ever friend, after Hagrid, he was great fun, and they'd been through a lot together, and it was hard to believe that that friendship could be broken by a broomstick, a dropped class, and jealousy about who was whose best friend.

Harry did not, however, have much time for more than a few games of chess and a few frivolous conversations. He was swamped between Quidditch practice five nights a week, Lupin's anti-dementor lessons, and his normal course load plus the all the extra work for Runes, which was a hard class even when you hadn't missed the first four months of it.

He told himself that Hermione had it just as rough, and had had it rougher during the first term, but it didn't help that his anti-dementor lessons weren't going as well as he would've liked. The bits of practice he snuck in here and there helped, but he longed for a chance to really work at the spell, and very nearly screwed up his courage to tell Wood they should have fewer Quidditch practices, but he chickened out in the end.

When they were alone in the library one day, Hermione said, "Let's take an hour to work on the Patronus Charm tonight."

Harry thought of all the homework he had to do and said, "I don't have an hour."

Hermione said, "Considering the dementors have almost killed you twice, if you promise to keep it secret and use it seriously," she lowered her voice, "We'll use the You-Know-What to get an hour."

"You'd do that?" he added. "Break the rules?"

"To keep you alive? Of course. Haven't I proven that plenty? I set Professor Snape on fire for you."

He smiled, remembering that. "Now?"

"Now," she said, packing her stuff away. He followed her through the halls, knowing they'd have to do it somewhere private. They went up the fourth floor, to a wing of the castle not near anything in particular, and Hermione said, "We'll use this classroom. It's always abandoned."

She opened the door, and when they stepped into the room, they saw a stag of silver light, and they saw themselves.

Another Harry and another Hermione, already in the room, startled and flushed.

Harry said, "Is that us? Isn't that dangerous?"

Hermione said, "I've heard seeing their cycle 1 selves can drive people mad, but I don't see why. I've seen myself going and coming plenty of times. It should be fine."

The other Hermione stepped forward and whispered something in Hermione's ear. Hermione looked confused and turned red, but looked at Harry and said, "Alright, let's go." She put the chain around them, Harry oddly conscious of how closely he was pressed to her, and Hermione turned the Time Turner once.

The classroom dissolved. Harry had the sensation that he was flying very fast, backward. A blur of colors and shapes rushed past him, his ears were pounding, he tried to yell—and they were in a hallway, next to a suit of armor.

"What?" said Harry. "Why aren't we in the classroom?"

"Displacement," said Hermione. "The Time Turner matches to general location and mood, not specific location. Privacy is a big part of mood, so it's works out. But let's go. I think I know where we are."

He followed her, and after two turns, they were back at the abandoned classroom, which was just as it had been before except there were no other selves and no Patronus.

Hermione checked her watch. "We've gone back an hour and three. That's normal. It's often a little off a perfect hour."

"Your watch...?"

"It's a wizarding watch. It always knows the time. Otherwise I'd be very confused. We only have an hour before cycle 1 gets here and we become cycle 2, so let's practice."

"And it's okay that we saw ourselves?"

"Cycle 2 was supposed to leave before we arrived, but they must've been distracted. We'll be distracted too."

Harry said, "I guess we'll find out whose Patronus that was. In an hour and three." He recalled his last Quidditch win and said, _"Expecto Patronum,_ " and produced a moderate volume of silver mist. Probably not the best memory, then.

Hermione produced her own puff of silver mist, and the two of them worked, settling among the dusty desks and saying little. One of them had gotten it by the end of an hour and three, and Harry wanted it to be him. He'd spent more time on it, after all. He imagined beating her, and that didn't work well. He remembered when they'd hugged in the Great Hall after Hermione had woken from Petrification, and that worked best of anything he'd tried, so he repeated it a number of times, the mist almost taking shape, but not quite.

He concluded that that memory wasn't good enough, and tried more out, looking for the one that would have that last little bit of oomph.

When nearly an hour had passed, the silver mist from her latest effort fading, Hermione said, "What are you using for your Patronus memory?"

"Er, well. Different things. Finding out I'm a wizard. Flying. Happy ideas, rather than memories. And you and Ron. Except, er, not him, since he's not talking to me, so just you, really."

"I'm your Patronus memory?"

"Well, you know. You're kind of, since my relatives and I don't get on, you're kind of the most important person in the world to me. So, yeah. You at the ice-cream parlor. When you woke at the end of second-year. At the lake with you. When you told me to embrace my Slytherin traits." He was turning pink, and he told himself to shut up.

He peeked at her, hoping she wouldn't be upset, and Hermione leaned forward. Her nose bumped his nose, then her lips bumped his lips.

The kiss broke as soon as it began, and Hermione, bright red, stepped away and looked at her feet.

Harry felt as if he couldn't move or think, but his mouth still worked. It said, "What was that for?"

"I was just happy."

"So you kissed me?"

"Did you not like it?"

Did he? It'd been so quick. There hadn't been anything to like or dislike. Except Hermione had kissed him! He'd had his first kiss, and it was Hermione. He wasn't sure what that meant, but his heart and his stomach thought it mean something. "I liked it fine," he said, avoiding looking at her, hoping she wasn't looking at him, because he was redder than before. Harry said, "Do you like me that way?" He darted a glance at her, and saw she'd graduated to staring at his feet.

Hermione said, "I don't know. Maybe. You?"

"I've never thought of you that way." She stiffened, and he hurriedly added, "But I definitely could. You're smart and pretty and my best friend."

"You think I'm pretty?"

"Of course you're pretty," said Harry, hating that his voice squeaked at the end.

She said nothing, the awkward silence going on and on, and Harry said, "So do you want to try it again? It was so short I couldn't tell anything."

Her own, "yes," was a squeak too, but she faced him and leaned forward again.

Their arms did not come around each other. There was no passionate frisson or battle for dominance between rollicking tongues. They pressed their lips together for several seconds, mostly still and barely parted.

But when it was over, Harry's heart was thundering so loudly he feared someone outside would hear its beating and come to investigate. Hermione gestured to the blackboard, and Harry saw it had turned bright red. He wondered whose accidental magic that had been, and he wondered if she felt as confused, frightened and euphoric as he did.

He'd only recently begun to think that way about girls, and he'd never thought that way about Hermione, but that she thought that way of him, of little, scabby-kneed, poorly dressed Harry Potter, was amazing. Astounding. He hadn't ever been happier.

" _Expecto Patronum,_ " Harry cast, and a silver stag burst from his wand.

The stag bounded around the room, far too big for the room, and Hermione met his gaze, eyes shining.

The door opened, and another Harry and Hermione came in. The stopped, staring at the Patronus, staring at Harry and Hermione.

The cycle 1 Harry said, "Is that us? Isn't that dangerous?"

The cycle 1 Hermione said, "I've heard seeing themselves can drive people mad, but I don't see why. I've seen myself going and coming plenty of times. It should be fine."

Hermione stepped forward, and whispered something in the other Hermione's ear. The other Hermione looked confused and turned red, but looked at the other Harry and said, "Alright, let's go." She put the chain around them, the other Hermione spun the Time Turner once, and the two cycle 1s vanished.

Harry said, "What did you tell her?"

Hermione said, "I told her she ought to kiss you if you said something very romantic. I never would've done it otherwise. Now let's go back to the library. We have a Charms essays to finish."

#

#

They did not get much done on their charms essays. Hermione stared at her book, re-reading the same paragraph again and again, and Harry didn't even try. He just looked at her. Now that she'd prompted him to think about her that way... He drank in the sight of her. Ink stains on her fingers. A pretty face framed by curly hair that wasn't as long as it had used to be. Dark brown eyes that had the faintest suggestion of gold to them. They kept darting up from her essay to glance at him.

She was beautiful, and she was his best friend.

Harry supposed, in his unsophisticated way, that a romance was friendship with _other stuff_ thrown in, so that was perfect. He wasn't totally sure what all the _other stuff_ was, and thinking about it frightened him a little, but he wouldn't mind trying it out with Hermione.

A particular and recently changing part of his anatomy informed him that it was very excited by the idea of _other stuff_ with Hermione.

Blushing, he waited for that to subside, and then said, "So, do you want to be boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

Hermione jerked hard enough that she banged her knee on the bottom of the table.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said, rubbing her knee. "Boyfriend and girlfriend. Wow. Yes, I think that's a good idea. We could gain practical experience and develop relevant social competencies."

Harry said, "Er. So you're not interested in me, really, you just want practical experience in dating?" Despite having never thought about dating her an hour ago, he was crushed.

"No, I'm just saying, you're 13 and I'm 14. We're both third-years. We shouldn't have unrealistic expectations about how long-lived and meaningful any relationship between us is likely to be. But there's no one I'd rather get practical experience with. So I'm saying I would like to be your girlfriend, and if the relationship did, against the odds, end up being long-lived and meaningful, I would like that."

She was, again, bright red.

Harry said, "Right. So. I'm thinking. Boyfriends and girlfriends, they eat together, they study together, it's pretty much everything we already do except with kissing and walking around Black Lake while holding hands?" There were also trips to Hogsmeade, but as he wasn't allowed to go to Hogsmeade, he didn't mention it.

Hermione said, "There should also be romantic gestures. Flowers are traditional."

He could do flowers. Probably talk to Neville to make sure he got the right ones. There had to be magical flowers that were a lot better than normal roses.

He was sitting across the table from her. He usually did that when it was just the two of them, so they'd face each other as they talked. But it was different now. He stood, moved to her side of the table, and sat next to her.

Their legs brushed, and they got very little done on their Charms essays.

As the days trickled by, they carried on as they always had, just with discreet hand holding, hugs, shoulder rubs, and occasional light kissing when in private. Harry wondered about more and had dreams about it too, but he felt as if his head was going explode from what they were doing already.

Harry had always thought about her a lot, but now he was thinking about her almost constantly, with a dizzy feeling in his stomach. He kept having to suppress a high-pitched, giddy giggle that would definitely not be attractive.

Hermione took to wearing cherry lip gloss, and did something to her hair.

And then Ron, who'd seemed to be thawing, saw them holding hands in the common room.

Ron stared and said, "So the rumor is true. Potter, are you seriously dating Hermione?"

Harry looked up, confused by Ron addressing him by his last name. "Er, more or less. We haven't gone on any proper dates, but other than that, yeah."

Ron said, "You couldn't have found anyone prettier?"

Harry heard Hermione's outraged gasp, and was outraged himself. "No, actually, since there isn't anyone prettier." He gave Hermione's hand a squeeze. "The real question is if you could find anyone pettier than yourself."

Ron ignored that. "You know she doesn't actually like you. She just wants to be girlfriend to the Boy-Who-Lived."

Hermione said, "Are you sure you're not talking about yourself?"

"I'm not a poofter."

Hermione said, "That's not what I meant, dimwit. You told me what you saw in the Mirror of Erised. If you looked in it again, would you see yourself with a lightning bolt scar?"

Ron turned an ugly shade of purple and said, "Would you be shagging me then?"

Harry and Hermione drew wands, and it would've come to spells if Fred and George hadn't picked Ron up by the armpits and carted him out the portrait hole, Fred or George promising as they passed to "hex some sense into him."

When the portrait shut, Hermione, though still clearly angry, brow furrowed, patted Harry reassuringly and said, "He'll come around."

His jaw worked. "The longer this goes on, the less sure I am that I want him to. He can't talk to you like that. He's acting like Malfoy. And what did you mean about him seeing himself with a lightning bolt scar in the Mirror of Erised?"

"Just that he's jealous. He's jealous of me being close to you, and he's jealous of you being the Boy-Who-Lived instead of him. You hate attention, but Ron loves it."

"You think he was only ever friends with me because of the whole Boy-Who-Lived thing?" The idea turned his stomach.

"No. He likes you. He was your friend. He really was. And he really was hurt that he felt like you chose me over him. But there's a part of him that's always liked being best mates with the Boy-Who-Lived. I can't say I'm completely innocent of that either. To me the attention is just a bother, but I do like that a lot of times we're working on important things. With the Stone and the Chamber and everything."

Harry said, "That's not me being the Boy-Who-Lived though. That's me sticking my nose where it doesn't belong."

"There you go then," said Hermione. "I've always liked sticking my nose where it doesn't belong."

Harry grinned. "I did notice early on that you can be very interfering."

:::

I think this was decent Time Turner use. This is a Harmony story and has romance, but plot wise it is not primarily romance, which is good, because I suck at romance.

Displacement is not my invention. Hermione doesn't name it, but it happens in PoA. They're in the hospital wing, Hermione uses the time turner, and they're in the entrance hall of three hours ago.

Yes, I know Hermione never looked in the Mirror of Erised. But they presumably told her about it after. And being Hermione, she looked it up in the library and told them more about it than they wanted to know.

The whole "we can't date because we're friends," thing has never made any sense to me. Okay, maybe if you dated a friend and the break-up wasn't amicable and so you weren't able to remain friends, you might feel burned and not want to date a friend again, but if you haven't had that experience, why would it even occur to you?

Dating may be more than a friendship with 'other stuff' grafted on, but I think that's how most kids think of it until they find out differently.

Yes, Ron said shagging. 13 and 14 year-olds say stuff like that all the time. It doesn't usually make it into YA books, but lots of kids are serious potty-mouths at that age.

Based on what we know about Patronus memories, Harry's Patronus memory basically being Hermione kissing him could easily change the form of his Patronus, but I decided against doing that.


	4. Chapter 4: Sensible Actions

**Sensible Action**

It was Harry's first anti-dementor lesson after he'd brought forth the stag. Lupin opened the wardrobe the boggart was housed in, and the boggart turned into a dementor.

Harry felt the chill, but he was already focused on the memory of his first kiss, and a hundred other memories of Hermione too, all amalgamated into a thought that went something like, 'I am very good friends with Hermione Granger, and something more too,' and when he cast the spell, a silver stag burst from his wand and chased the boggart-dementor right back into its wardrobe.

Professor Lupin fell out of his chair. "A stag," he said, "A stag!"

Amid his pride and satisfaction, Harry spared a moment to be puzzled, because while he had expected Professor Lupin to be pleased, he hadn't expected him to be shocked by the particular form of his Patronus.

Coming back to his feet, Lupin said, "It looks just like Prongs." He shook his head. "Your father's Patronus was a stag too. He called it Prongs. It looked very much like yours."

Prongs. It reminded him of the Marauder's Map, but that was a distracting an important thought. His Patronus was the same as his father's. Harry said, "Could I call mine Prongs too?"

"I think James would appreciate it. Cast it again."

Harry let the Patronus fade, then cast it again, the stag, Prongs, prancing around the room just as before.

"Wonderful. You've got it. This calls for some celebration. You've earned a drink. Something from the Three Broomsticks." He pulled two bottles of butterbeer out of his case, handing Harry one.

Harry popped the cap off and relished the taste, though not nearly as much as he relished what had just happened. The same Patronus as his dad. And Lupin knowing that, and knowing its name confirmed what Harry had suspected. His dad and Lupin had been more than casual friends, like, say, Harry and Seamus. They'd been close.

Harry said, "Am I very much like my dad?"

Lupin gave him a long look, and Harry thought Lupin wouldn't answer, but Lupin said, "In some ways. You're both Gryffindors. Both phenomenal fliers. Very similar Patronuses. You look remarkably like him, as I'm sure you've been told. I hear you have the same disrespect for rules. And unless I'm mistaken, your wand is phoenix feather."

"Holly and Phoenix feather."

Lupin said, "James' was Mahogany and Phoenix feather. So in some ways, you're eerily similar. Almost identical. In other ways, you're very different. For good or for ill, and it was often both, James had a swagger. In personality, you remind me more of your mother, which is good. She was a better person than we were, especially at your age." His gaze was distant, lost in memories, but he shook the memories off and said, "There's a messenger spell using the Patronus Charm, that, after you've learned the Patronus Charm, isn't much of a step up. You might learn it by the end of today."

Harry wished he hadn't learned the Patronus Charm so quickly. Now that he had, this might well be their last meeting. And once they weren't meeting for lessons, Lupin wouldn't let slip any more details about his parents.

Harry said, "I was wondering. With Black after me and all. Now that I've about got the Patronus down, maybe you could tutor me on dueling."

Lupin looked at him sharply. "You're not thinking to go after Black, are you?"

"Of course not," said Harry, though he had that in mind. "But he's already tried to break into Gryffindor once. Knowing a few more spells could keep me alive."

Lupin frowned and from his briefcase took three parchments bound together by a silver ring. "This is the spell-list from my fourth-year class. Fourth-year is much more focused on defending oneself against wizards than creatures. Wand movements and other basic information needed for the spells is included. It's alphabetical, but the really important spells are underlined. I'd draw particular attention to the Stunning Spell and the Shield Charm. I've also included charms and transfigurations that, while not normally part of a Defence course, can be very useful. The Summoning Charm can come especially in handy. You could work on these spells on your own."

Harry took the spell-list, wondering when he'd have the time.

Lupin said, "And I suppose we could continue meeting once a week, most weeks. Though unfortunately, next week may not work."

Harry said, "The full moon's on the seventh, isn't it?" Then he froze, wondering why he'd said that, noticing out of the corner of his eye that Lupin had frozen as well.

"The full moon?" Lupin said. "What does that have to do with anything?

"Well, you know. You are, aren't you?"

"Aren't I what?" said Lupin, swallowing.

"A werewolf," said Harry.

Professor Lupin was utterly silent. Harry regretted saying anything at all.

Harry said, "It's fine if you are. Just a rotten case of bad luck." He was very much afraid his favorite Professor was about to boot him out.

Lupin began to laugh. Not a nice life. There was relief to it, and hysterics. He said, "That's almost exactly what your mother said to me when she found out. Your father, on the other hand, took the mickey out of me, but that was years earlier."

"You're not mad?"

Lupin spread his arms. "At you figuring out my secret? Why would I be? All the clues were there. Not much escapes you, Harry."

Harry said, "Not much escapes Hermione. I just talk to her.

Lupin raised his butterbeer. "A toast, to Miss Granger and young love."

Harry blushed. "You've heard already?"

"Never underestimate the speed of the Hogwarts rumor mill. Galleons were exchanged at the staff table when that rumor was confirmed, longstanding bets settled. Professor Snape raked in a killing, though he did look distinctly morose about it."

"Snape did?"

"Professor Snape, Harry. And you should never gamble with him."

Harry could believe that, even if he couldn't imagine Professor Snape betting on students' love lives.

Lupin said, "Do I need to tell you to not inform anyone of my condition?"

"We know," said Harry. "We won't."

"Then the week after next, I will see you in the Defence classroom for a little dueling practice. But first, let's try that Patronus Messenger Charm."

#

#

Walking back to the dorms from his session with Lupin, flush from the memory of his success at the Messenger Patronus, Harry nearly bumped into Professor McGonagall.

She was carrying his Firebolt, which looked as fresh and oiled and perfect as ever.

Professor McGonagall said, "I've just been looking for you in the Gryffindor common room. Well, here it is, we've done everything we could think of, and there doesn't seem to be anything wrong with it at all. You've got a very good friend somewhere, Potter..."

"I can have it back?" said Harry. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," said Professor McGongall, and she was actually smiling. "I daresay you'll need to get the feel of it before Saturday's match, won't you? And Potter—do try to win, won't you? Or we'll be out of the running for the eighth year in a row, as Professor Snape was kind enough to remind me only last night..."

Speechless, Harry carried the Firebolt upstairs toward Gryffindor tower. As he turned a corner, he saw Ron coming toward him, wearing a cautious smile.

"You got it back," said Ron.

Harry said, "In time for the match, and in just as good of condition as before."

"But there weren't any jinxes on it, were there?"

Harry stoutly said, "But there might've been, so it's good we checked."

"She's been proven wrong and you're still taking her side."

"For the last time, Ron, I'm not taking her side. She just wasn't wrong. Sure, it wasn't jinxed, but she was right to think it might've been. It was a sensible precaution." He hesitated, thinking of what Ron had said just a couple days before, but thought of everything they'd been through together. "I'll let you give it a fly if you'll make up with her."

Ron looked angry for a moment, then deflated, shamefaced. "Some of what I said to her wasn't very good. Especially when I saw you two holding hands."

"You think?"

"I was upset. I don't like things changing. And this year, at Diagon Alley, I thought, as far as dating went, it would be me if it was anyone. That we would date."

Harry, recalling what Hermione had said about Ron being jealous of her being close to him, wondered if Ron really might be a poofter, and if there were any politer sounding words for that. "It's alright," said Harry. "I understand. But you can't let that make you nasty to her. You just need to apologize to Hermione, a lot, and it'll go back to being the same as before, except me and her will hold hands and sometimes we might want to be alone."

"Alright. Just give me a minute. Once we're in the dorms, I'll go give Scabbers his rat tonic, and then I'll say sorry."

Harry understood. Ron would spend two minutes giving Scabbers his rat tonic, and twenty minutes pacing the dorm, practicing what he would say to her and working himself up to it by getting all of his grumbling out of the way early.

Proceeding to Gryffindor Tower, they noticed Neville outside the portrait leading to it, arguing with Sir Cadogan.

"I've lost the passwords!" Neville told them miserably. "I made him tell me what passwords he was going to use this week, because he keeps changing them, and now I don't know what I've done with them."

"Oddsbodikins," said Harry to Sir Cadogan, who looked disappointed and swung forward to let them into the common room. There was a sudden, excited murmur as everyone turned, and the next moment, as Ron went up to their room, Harry was surrounded by people exclaiming over his Firebolt.

"Where'd you get it, Harry?"

"Will you let me have a go?"

"Have you ridden it yet?"

Smiling nervously and trying to answer everyone's questions with a quick spiel, Harry pushed through and spotted Hermione, bent over her Runes homework and avoiding his eyes, rather than smiling at his entrance like she usually did.

He sat next to her, holding the broom tight. "Are you still worried about that?"

"There was nothing wrong with it, was there?" said Hermione, ears pink.

"I've already said you were right to be suspicious, and I've already forgiven you for going to Professor McGonagall behind my back. And Ron has promised to apologize to you."

"It'd better be good, after what he said."

He took her hand. "Saying sorry is hard for him."

"I'll accept it," sighed Hermione. "I still feel horrible enough over going to McGonagall before talking to you."

At that moment, a strangled yell echoed down the boy's staircase. The whole common room fell silent, staring at the entrance. Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder—and then Ron came leaping into view, dragging with him a bed sheet.

"LOOK!" he bellowed, striding over to them. "LOOK!" he yelled, shaking the sheet in Hermione's face.

"Ron, what?"

"SCABBERS! LOOK! SCABBERS!"

Hermione was leaning away from Ron, utterly bewildered. Harry looked at the sheet Ron was holding. There was something red on it, something that looked horribly like—

"BLOOD!" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE, AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?" Ron threw something down onto Hermione's rune translation. Hermione and Harry leaned forward. Lying on the top of spiky shapes of the runes were several long, ginger cat hairs.

"YOUR CAT ATE MY RAT, AND IT'S YOUR FAULT! HE'S HAD IT IN FOR SCABBERS FROM THE BEGINNING. I TOLD YOU TO GET RID OF THE BEAST, AND YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!"

Hermione said, "You can't know it was Crookshanks! Besides, maybe Scabbers isn't even dead."

"HIS HAIR ON THE FLOOR, AND I CAN'T KNOW IT WAS HIM! YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS, HAVEN'T YOU! YOU'VE NEVER LIKED SCABBERS."

Hermione said, "He was a rat. I liked him fine! And for all you know those hairs have been there since Christmas! And Scabbers might be fine. Have you checked under the beds?"

"OH, AND THE BLOOD ON THE SHEETS CAME FROM NOWHERE DID IT! YOUR BEAST OF A CAT ATE MY RAT!"

Harry said, "Ron, you ought to calm down.

"You're taking her side again!"

"I think Crookshanks probably ate Scabbers. I think Hermione should apologize to you over that, but it wasn't her fault. Crookshanks was just doing what cats do, and you shouldn't be screaming at Hermione over it."

Harry continued in the levelest tone he could manage, which wasn't very level. "I offered that we would all go to the library and figure out a way to keep Scabbers safe, and all you did was insult Hermione more! And if you didn't want to work with her, you could've at least looked for a way to do it yourself. And Hermione did a lot better job at locking Crookshanks in her room than you did locking him out of ours, and it's not as if Scabbers even wanted to go down to the common room. I kept the door closed more than you did. If you want to be mad at her for not doing more, first you'd better be a lot madder at yourself for doing nothing."

"ALWAYS SAYING YOU'RE NOT TAKING HER SIDE, AND ALWAYS ENDING UP ON IT! BECAUSE WHO CARES WHAT I THINK? I'M JUST THE FUNNY STUPID ONE!"

Harry said, "Ron, we know you're not stupid. You wouldn't murder the whole dorm at chess if you were."

"AND THAT'S ANOTHER THING. YOU NEVER LEARNED THE SICILIAN DEFENCE LIKE I TOLD YOU TO. JUST QUEEN PAWN EVERY TIME. IT GETS BLOODY BORING. I BET YOU WOULD'VE LEARNED IT IF HERMIONE HAD TOLD YOU TO!"

Harry protested, "I just don't like breaking my castle."

"YOU'D STILL CASTLE ON YOUR KING SIDE IF YOU'D LEARN IT PROPERLY. BUT IT'S NOT ABOUT THAT. IT'S ABOUT THE FACT THAT YOU AND HERMIONE HAVE NEVER RESPECTED ME!"

Hermione shouted, "That's not true, but you're sure working hard to make it that way."

"YOU NEVER ACTUALLY LIKED ME! YOU ONLY HUNG OUT WITH ME BECAUSE I WAS FRIENDS WITH HARRY AND HE'S THE BOY-WHO-LIVED!"

Hermione shouted, "Ron! Think, for once in your life! I'm muggle-born. I didn't grow up on stories of the Boy-Who-Lived. What do I care about it?!"

"'THINK, FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE!?' SEE, YOU THINK I'M STUPID!"

"Maybe I do!"

Ron's jaw clamped shut. He pounded up the stairs running away from them, sheet flapping behind them.

Hermione stared after him, angry and miserable. Harry put an arm over her shoulder, wondering if they'd ever be friends with Ron again, wondering if he wanted to be.

#

#

The Quidditch match raised his flagging spirits. He noticed that Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker, was quite pretty, and felt guilty for noticing. He suppressed the feeling, caught the snitch, and then used his Patronus on three dementors that turned out to be Malfoy and goons, who lost 50 points over it. The Gryffindor dorms were ecstatic.

Ron of course, stayed away from the party.

As the party wound down, Harry broke away from the crush of congratulations and sat next to Hermione and took her hand, ignoring a catcall from Fred and George. He was getting better at initiating physical contact, but he still wasn't nearly as bold about as she was.

Occasionally, she would hold his arm in such a way that the back of his arm pushed against the side of her breast, and he liked that a lot and wondered if she did it on purpose.

They'd even kissed each other using tongues the other day, and it had been strange, but nice. Then they'd both started laughing.

Harry said, "There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up. I thought we might have a proper date."

"With you in an invisibility cloak? Harry, you shouldn't go to Hogsmeade again. What if Black caught you?"

He shrugged.

"Harry James Potter, I will never forgive if you get yourself killed. I'll visit your gravestone and scream at you for being an idiot."

Harry said, "Everyone who has a girlfriend takes them to Hogsmeade."

"Is that what this is about? Harry, if I see you there, I won't go on a pleasant date with you, I'll nag you horribly to leave. And possibly hex you. And I'm not going to Hogsmeade anyway."

"Not... Hermione, even if I'm stuck here, that doesn't mean you are. You don't have to stay to keep me company."

"Who would I go with? Accompany Lavender and Parvati while they continue their epic quest to flirt with all the boys? Ron's not speaking to me. Tag along with Ginny and her friends? I suppose I could go with Neville, but I'd much rather be here with you than there with anyone else. Besides, I'll have loads of homework to do."

Rather be at Hogwarts with him than at Hogsmeade with anyone else? He liked the sound of that. Still. "You need to relax some time."

"While everyone else is at Hogsmeade, we'll have a picnic by the lake."

"It's not picnicking weather yet."

"Then we'll practice our warming charms. If it were me the crazy murderer were after, would you want me risking my life for Honeydukes and Zonko's?"'

Harry sank into the couch, defeated. "You're right. I don't want you to be, but you are. As usual."

"I'm glad you've come to accept that," she said.

Harry groaned. "Hermione."

She tucked his arm against her chest in the way that pressed the back of it against the side of her breast, and she pecked him on the lips.

Harry subsided, then laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"You remember what Ron said when we first argued about me forgiving you right away over the Firebolt? When he suggested I was being easy on you because of your, er, feminine wiles? It wasn't true at all then, but it's becoming true now. I wonder if he's got more talent for Divination than anyone suspects."

"A talent for self-fulfilling prophecies, if so," she said. She smiled, but it was a strained smile, so Harry knew she didn't want to talk about Ron.

Harry said, "That spell-list Professor Lupin gave me. I don't have the time to learn it, but what if you _gave me time._ "

"No."

"It's important. We did it for the Patronus."

"A little. Besides. That was to keep you safe. This is because you want to go after Black."

"No I don't. I mean, I do want to. But I wouldn't actually go after him. I know I said that when I first heard, but I've cooled down."

"Harry Potter, I know you. You might tell other people you're not planning to go after him, you might even tell that to yourself, but inside you'll be thinking of all the different ways you could be forced to defend yourself from him, and you'll do your best to make one of those situations happen. By, I don't know, going to Hogsmeade and 'carelessly' taking off your invisibility cloak."

Harry opened his mouth to object, but realized it was true. "He betrayed my parents to Voldemort."

"And he's an adult wizard who'd love nothing more than to kill you. If you go after him, you'll only be helping him."

"That's why I need to borrow time from you. So I'll be stronger."

"It doesn't have nearly enough time in it for you to win that fight, if he's gotten hold of a wand."

Harry glared, Hermione gave him that infuriating, 'I'm right and you know it,' look.

"Hermione, he killed my parents."

Her lips pursed. A struggle was on her face, as if she wasn't sure whether to say what was on her mind. And that was odd, because Hermione always said what was on her mind. Like the words were demanding to be let out.

Hermione said, "Do you want to win, or do you want to emote? If you just want to express your emotions, sure, go get yourself killed. But if you actually want to win, if you actually want him caught, that's a different story."

"You think I don't care about that?"

"Not enough to control yourself, clearly. Not enough to face reality."

His voice shook with anger. "So you think I should just do nothing?"

"I think you should stay safe and wait for the Ministry to catch him."

Wait? Wait?! When had the Ministry ever done anything? It would come down to him, just like it had his first year and his second, just like it had when he was one. And yes, he knew a third-year shouldn't have any chance against an evil dark wizard, but he'd done it before, hadn't he? She didn't understand. She didn't get it.

He glared at her, she glared back, and beneath that glare he saw a hint of fear.

And Harry knew they were about to have their first fight as a couple, and it would not be pretty, and they might not be a couple anymore at the end of it, which was horrible because she was only worried about him and she was at least a little bit right, and he couldn't imagine Ron ever getting into an argument with him to protect him.

Harry jumped on the first conversational life raft that came to mind.

Harry said, "I wonder how Malfoy would handle this."

"Malfoy?"

"You told me I should do more with my Slytherin traits. If Malfoy were in this situation, and he weren't a stupid, evil, slimy git, what would he do? Try to get Black caught, I reckon."

Hermione relaxed and raised an eyebrow. "That... has some potential." She sounded intensely relieved as she said so. "We wouldn't want to do anything stupid, like using you as bait, of course, but it has some potential."

Harry said, "We could use me as bait, but in a way that isn't stupid. Or, we could transfigure a log to look like me, and use that as bait. And we could try to figure out how he got into the castle, and trap it for if he tries again."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "The first thing we should do is tell a Professor about the one-eyed witch that leads to the cellar of Honeydukes. That might be how he he got in."

Harry hated that thought. "If I tell them about the secret entrance, I'll never get to go to Hogsmeade again."

"Yes you will. Next year. And Hogsmeade is nice, but it isn't to die for."

"If he'd broken into Honeydukes we would've heard."

"Harry, he broke out of Azkaban. He's a dangerous and powerful dark wizard, one of V-Voldemort's chief Lieutenants. I'm sure he can get in and out of a candy store without anyone noticing."

Harry suppressed another glare. "You're full of good sense today"

"I'm just telling you what you already know but don't want to admit."

That was also true. Damn her. "Give me a few days to think about it. And I'll talk to Fred and George. They're the ones who showed it to me, so it should be their decision."

Harry could tell she disagreed, but instead of arguing she pulled him closer and caught his right calf between her ankles, which she'd never done before.

They were silent for a while, until Hermione said, "If you promise not to be foolish with it or go after Black, I'll let you use my time to practice Defence."

#

#

That night, Harry and Hermione sat together on his bed. She was wearing less than usual, and the room was empty except for them, and Harry knew they didn't have to worry about anyone else coming in. The door was bound in stone and steel.

Adopting her most scholarly manner, Hermione put a hand on his thigh and said, "I'm worried we may be falling behind with our relationship. I've made a schedule of what we should be doing when, and it's past time we went to the next level."

Harry said, "Do you mean...?"

"Obviously, we're not going straight to intercourse. That's very advanced, and there's so much else to learn first. I've been doing research, and there's a sexual activity called fellatio I thought we might try. Colloquially known as a blow job, or giving head. Have you heard of it?"

Harry nodded mutely. The boys talked when the girls weren't around. All he could see as she spoke were her red, red lips.

"I'm sure we'll need lots of practice to get it right. I don't know how it will taste, so I thought we should clean it first." A moist towelette, clearly warm, appeared in her hand. "If you'd take off your pants, we can begin."

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHH! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Harry woke as suddenly as though he'd been hit in the face.

Disoriented in the darkness, realizing that that had been a dream and Hermione wasn't with him and it would be a long, long time before anything like that happened, if ever, Harry fumbled with the hangings around his bed. He heard Seamus' voice from the other side of the room: "What's going on?"

Harry ripped his bed curtains back at the same time Dean Thomas lit a lamp, and he saw Ron sitting up in bed, the hangings torn on one side, a look of utmost terror on his face.

"Black," he said. "Sirius Black. With a knife."

#

#

With Sirius Black's presence and departure confirmed by the portrait, Sir Cadogan, the whole of Gryffindor house gathered in the common room, awaiting word of Black's capture. Harry sat with Hermione, the situation too grave for him to feel awkwardness about a dream he barely remembered.

When Professor McGonagall came back at dawn to report that Black had again escaped, Hermione caught his eye, and Harry understood without her saying anything. Ron could've died. Anyone could've died. And however unlikely it was, it was possible that Sirius Black had come in through the statue of the one-eyed witch.

Amid the tired, frightened students seeking comfort from a stern Professor McGonagall, Harry approached Fred and George, Hermione a step and a half behind him.

Fred and George were sitting on a sofa, talking quietly and seriously, hands chopping the air, a rare display of disagreement between the twins.

Harry squatted beside them and said, "I think we should tell a Professor about the passage behind the one-eyed witch."

One twin said, "That's just what I was telling Fred."

Fred said, "That's probably not even how he got in."

George said, "But what if it is? What if Ron died, or Ginny even, and later we found out that's how he was getting in?"

Fred said, "Well if it were just Ron..."

George hit his arm. "I'm being serious."

Fred spoke to Harry, "Don't you think it's very unlikely? Dumbledore doesn't even know about the one-eyed witch, so how would Sirius Black?"

Harry said, "The same way we do. He was a student here for seven years too. I heard he was a troublemaker at Hogwarts. I heard he and my dad compared to you two. He might know the castle better than the Professors. I doubt any of them ever went looking for ways to sneak in and out so they could go on late night butterbeer runs."

He couldn't imagine Dumbledore doing that, never mind McGonagall or Snape.

"Damn it," said Fred. "Do you think they'd keep it boarded up forever?"

"No," said George. "They knew about the others and didn't cover them up, normally. I reckon Dumbledore thinks sneaking in and out of the castle is youthful character building, but not with a murderer on the loose."

Fred looked from George to Harry. He sighed and heaved himself to his feet, saying, "I hate being responsible. George, let's do it."

The twins went over to Professor McGonagall, and Harry saw her expression change as they spoke.

After a minute, the twins came back.

"Well?" said Harry.

Fred said, "She took 15 points for not telling us earlier—

"—but gave us 30 for telling her now," George concluded.

:::

Whooo! Our heroes being noticeably but not remarkably responsible and mature for people of their age. I feel like that should be a prerequisite for being considered a hero, but it's rarer than jackalopes.

Emoting or winning? Nothing about canon Harry frustrates me more than that he never realized that what he wanted to be true did not have any special relationship to what was true.

I like Lupin, but he's a little frustrating, ain't he?

Monstrosity, by JLL. It's on amazon, in the books department, it costs on 99 cents. It's good. Please at least read the free sample. And if you buy it, review it!


	5. Chapter 5: Mental

**Ch 5: Mental**

Each day melted into the others. Valentine's Day was a brief punctuation, but they had no time to do anything about it. He bought a thornless red rose from the Hufflepuff hawking them, and gave it to Hermione. She thanked him, stuck it in her hair, and asked him to pass her the Herbology cut-outs.

It disappointed him, but the next day came, and the next, February passing into March. With exams 'only three months away,' Hermione went into overdrive, gripping him with her left hand while revising her notes or furiously writing essays.

He dragged her out of the castle for the occasional picnic by the lake, but mostly did his best to make studying easier for her, bringing her tea, quizzing her on potions ingredient and runes, hoping she'd have more time for him over Easter hols.

But Harry was working just as hard. He was entertaining hopes of getting an Acceptable in Ancient Runes. Wood had hardly let up on Quidditch practice at all, and had if anything become more fanatical with the Final against Slytherin approaching.

Harry and Hermione spent much of what little free-time they had in the library, looking up court cases to help Hagrid with Buckbeak.

And then there was the extra time. Hermione refused to use her Time Turner with him. To her, it was for class and only for class, their work on Patronuses together a remarkable exception to an iron rule.

Yet she seemed to have little problem letting him borrow it.

"It's not infinite. The sand runs out. Now, they gave me a lot more than they thought I'd need because even the smallest size they make has a lot more than I'd need, and I've been very thrifty with it, and then I dropped a class after Christmas, so there's quite a lot left, but be careful with it. And be sure no one sees you in two places at once. And remember that you're not allowed to try and change the past with it, even though it wouldn't work. And seeing yourself coming and going is alright, but don't interact."

So nearly every night, Harry collected the Time Turner from her after dinner, went to an abandoned classroom, and turned the Time Turner three times, sometimes dealing with displacement, sometimes not, and tried out all the spells in the list Professor had given him. Some he found easy, like the Stunning Charm, and some he found hard. The Summoning Charm in particular drove him mad, but he kept at it, and eventually started pulling sticks and books unsteadily across the room.

For every spell, he concocted myriads of scenarios for how it would allow him to defeat Black, or at least get Black caught. Black would be standing on a loose tile, for example, and he'd use the Summoning Charm to pull it out from under him, and Black would fall and hit his head on stone.

When three hours were almost up, Harry would put his invisibility cloak on and wait for his younger self to come in. His younger self would hold the door open for him to leave through, and when he was out in the hall, he'd take the cloak off.

Once, his younger self came before he'd gotten his invisibility cloak on, and they'd nodded at each other.

Then, he'd go directly back to Hermione, discreetly slip the Time Turner back to her, and depending on what day it was, either do homework with her or go to Quidditch practice. He'd shortly added more time than she had through the whole course of the year, but Hermione looked at his sand consumption, pronounced it "acceptable," and insisted that he get at least nine hours of sleep every night.

He tried, but resisted all of her hints that he should use it less, eventually admitting that he liked the idea that they were getting closer in age.

Once a week, most weeks, he was tutored at dueling and self-defense by Professor Lupin for one hour, and he felt guilty at Lupin's lavish praise for 'improving so quickly even with all else you have to do.'

Harry and Hermione tossed around wild plans for getting Sirius Black caught but they were all either ridiculous, too dangerous (according to Hermione) or required more advanced magic than they knew, and Harry wasn't willing to approach a Professor, certain they'd be told off.

It was strange to plot without Ron, but Ron was being an absolute git, especially to Hermione, making loud remarks in her hearing about how much Scabbers would enjoy the weather or the cheese or whatnot, and kept telling her to get rid of Crookshanks. Harry had gotten in several spats with him as a result.

Ron, meanwhile, seemed perfectly happy with Dean and Seamus.

One night, Hermione said, "Do you think I should apologize to Ron?"

Harry frowned. "I think Crookshanks probably ate Scabbers. Maybe not, but probably. Crookshanks was just being a cat, but still. You should say how sorry you are. And if Ron still wants revenge on Crookshanks, you two could give him a funny hair-cut together. Shave the topcoat off most of his body except leave some around his neck like a mane so he looks like a little lion."

She smiled at the joke, but was waiting tensely for him to finish.

"But, to me, all that is only after he's gotten on his knees and begged for your forgiveness. He's said way too much, and we've already tried to make up with him before. He has to apologize first now."

"I think so too," said Hermione.

There were silent for a moment, and Harry said, "Do you miss him?" expecting that she would say she did, and they'd reminisce about good times with Ron.

Hermione said, "At first I did. But now, sometimes I'm glad he's gone. We always fought. He made fun of me. People made fun of me every day at my muggle school, and even after Ron and I made friends, he kept on doing it. And I tried to convince myself it was good-spirited joshing, but I don't like being told I read too much or I'm a right terror or stuck up or I'm mental for studying hard or for being curious about the world and liking to learn, mental this, mental that, clearly something's wrong with me if I'm interested in anything he's not interested in, which restricts me tightly to Quidditch and chess, and when we disagree, never mind what logic says, whatever he thinks must by definition be right because he's the one thinking it, and when he gives you bad advice and you follow it, because until these past few months, you always followed his, not mine, he just might apologize to you for steering him wrong, but would he ever acknowledge it to me? Not likely! Who would acknowledge something like that to a girl? Not Ronald."

Hermione took a deep, having got all that out in one breath, and said, "But he could be sweet sometimes. And he did try to hex Malfoy in second year over me, but then he never needed much excuse to fight Malfoy, now did he, and considering how jealous and possessive he is, why, he might've responded much the same if Malfoy had insulted his robes, or _Scabbers,_ because clearly I don't matter as much to him as his damn rat."

Shocked by the vehemence of her response, and by the fact that Hermione Granger had used curse words, Harry could only stare.

"But yes, I guess I do miss him. I want to be on speaking terms with him at least. Because he was my second ever friend, just a minute after you, like twins being born, and we went through so much together, with the Stone and the Chamber. I've never had a sibling, but maybe he's like a brother. A really, really annoying younger brother who I keep hoping will grow up and stop being such a colossal ass."

She took several more deep breaths, then folded her hands on her lap, nervously awaiting his response.

Defences of Ron sprung to mind, but Harry wasn't in any mood to defend Ron. "I'm sorry. I should've made him be nicer to you."

"I know you talked to him about it sometimes. And you'd give him a look when you thought he was taking it too far."

"But sometimes I laughed," said Harry. Ron had said a lot to Hermione, and he'd never really thought about it before, about how it must come across to Hermione to hear it day after day.

"Sometimes he was funny," said Hermione. "Maybe I'm being oversensitive. It's a bad person who can't handle being poked fun at."

"He never poked fun at me like that. I don't think I would've liked it if he did." Granted, Hermione had been known to say things to Ron that suggested he was stupid or lazy or bound for an early death, usually prefaced by the word 'honestly,' but such comments were usually after Ron had driven her spare.

He'd always known that. He'd just always thought of it as harmless bickering. It'd never occurred to him that it might not seem like that to Hermione.

It still didn't occur to him that it might not seem like that to Ron.

Hermione said, "So you see, I'm not nearly so surprised as you about how nasty he's been to us lately, though I never expected him to be so nasty to you. Jealousy driving him mad, I suppose."

Jealousy. He hadn't mentioned it to Hermione, since it seemed private, but considering everything else they'd just been saying about Ron... Harry said, "He wasn't completely clear about it, but the night I got the Firebolt back, before the big argument, he told me he'd always thought we would date. He and I. So. I think that must be part of why he reacted so badly when us two started dating."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, completely taken aback. Then realization swept over her face, and she began to giggle. She rested her body on the table, shoulder's shaking with suppressed laughter, and when the giggles subsided she looked up with tears of mirth in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "This shouldn't be funny. It makes sense. He told me myriads of times this year that he liked girls and wasn't a 'poofter.' I wondered why he was bringing it up. Now I understand. He was in denial. I'm surprised he would be so honest with himself, never mind with you. That was very brave of him to admit. If we start talking again, we'll have to make clear we support him and don't think any less of him for it."

"We don't?" Harry said.

"What would be wrong with it?"

Uncle Vernon had made a number of comments about 'poofters,' but Harry supposed Uncle Vernon not liking something was evidence in its favor.

"Nothing, I guess," Harry said.

"And we shouldn't say 'poofter.' It's rude. We should say homosexual, or gay, even if it is an Americanism."

But they had no opportunities to express their support, even if they'd wanted to. Ron avoided them, and when he didn't, he was nasty, telling Hermione that her hair needed pruning and telling Harry that he was only good at Quidditch because he used expensive brooms.

Easter hols came, and rather than a time of relaxation as he'd hoped, it was a time for obscene quantities of homework, but at last, finally, the final Quidditch match came. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. A short but brutal match, with Slytherin fouling whenever they could get away with it and even when they couldn't. It ended when Harry knocked Malfoy's arm aside and snatched the Snitch.

The euphoria of winning the Quidditch cup was nearly matched by his relief at not having to go to nearly daily Quidditch practices anymore, and actually having time to goof off.

Except, Hermione was not receptive to goofing off. And not just that she didn't want to goof off. She didn't want him to do it either.

He'd have a decent essay, and she'd insist that he'd revise, at which point he'd have a good essay, which was fine. But then she'd insist that he revise it again. Or he'd be confident about a test, expecting to get a good score, and she'd want him to study until he could guarantee getting every answer perfect.

It'd been fine when Quidditch had still been in session, and he'd had far too much to do and had needed to work his fingers to the bone to do alright, but that was no longer the case and it was driving him batty.

It had always been a problem with Hermione, and Ron had always handled it.

Ron would say they had better things to do than just school and not everyone was cut out to spend life going mental over a stack of books. Then the argument would be on, and Harry would look for a game of Exploding Snap.

But now he and Hermione had to make it work themselves.

Hermione said, "Harry, The paragraphs in your essay about the distinction between possession by contact and possession by use could use more detail and a clearer disambiguation between function and functionality."

Harry took a breath. This was the moment. "Hermione, it's plenty good enough. I want to do well, but I don't need it to be perfect, and I care a lot more about spells than essays."

Hermione said, "Oh, but when you understand the theory properly, your spellwork will improve."

Harry plowed on with what he'd planned to say. A little speech he'd prepared with the help of his inner Hermione. "I appreciate that you push me to do what I know I need to do but don't want to. But I don't like when you make out that I need to do the things you like doing. Like endlessly revising essays until they can be bound and put in textbooks. I like that you do it, but we have slightly different priorities, and I need you to respect that."

He stared into her eyes, willing her to understand that he was serious.

Hermione said, "But you could get all Os if you really pushed yourself. You could challenge me for the top spot, even."

That stunned him. "No I couldn't."

"Yes you could. I'm not special, Harry. I just work hard."

"You do work hard, harder than anyone I know, but... no. You're brilliant and you're talented. I guess I'm better than you at practical defence, and if I worked as hard as you, _maybe_ I could catch you in another one or two classes, but not in general. No way."

Hermione said, "Yes you could. You're smarter and more talented than you realize."

"I-" was he? Was he really? "If I am, so are you." He was getting distracted. "But even if I could catch you as the number one student in the year, which I couldn't, it wouldn't be worth it to me. I want to do well, and very well at some things, but I'd rather get a mix of Es and Os and go for a fly most days than get all Os and not fly much."

Hermione looked glumly at the table. "You want me to stop nagging you."

"No!" said Harry. "I want you to nag me. It's great. I love that about you. I depend on it more than I should. I just want you to nag me less, especially when what you're nagging me about is already fine."

He gulped. He'd told himself to not say 'nagging.' He'd planned to refer to it as 'encouragement and constructive criticism.' But she'd said 'nag,' so he'd said it back, and now he awaited an explosion.

Hermione didn't explode. She sounded miserable as she said, "I know. I tell myself not to nag you so much. I know I shouldn't. But I just can't not say it. Once I think of it, the words are bursting. They have to come out. I have the same problem in class."

Harry said, "Is that why after class you'd always tell me and Ron everything you'd wanted to tell the class but couldn't when you weren't called on?"

"Yes. It's very silly, I know. I'll try harder to not nag you." Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath, visibly centering herself. She said, "Your essay could be better. Making it so would be a productive use of your time. But it's good enough, and you can do whatever you like. Now get the essay out of my sight so I don't think about it."

That conversation didn't resolve it, but it made it better. A week and a half later, he saw her writing in a small notebook labeled "Excessive Nagging."

Apparently, when she wanted to nag him but knew she shouldn't, she wrote it in the notebook instead, letting the words out that way.

The word 'mental' crossed his mind, but what crossed his mouth was laughter, followed by "Thank you," and "Good coping mechanism," and insisted that she let him read it.

With Harry's schedule moderately opened up, he found he had little idea what to do with the extra time other than go for flys, walk the grounds, practice spells and try to find a game Neville was good at. When he complained once of being bored, Hermione reached into her massive book bag and tossed _Hogwarts, A History_ at him.

It was several times more interesting than he'd thought it would be, which was to say, it did not bore him to tears, and, at the end of a week, when he'd finished it, he felt closer to Hermione for having read it, but he did not mention being bored to Hermione ever again.

When Ron saw Harry reading it, he called Harry a swot, which Harry decided to take as a compliment, though he did not think it was very accurate.

Neville spent time with them more and more, and Harry had bitter thoughts of Neville settling in as Ron's replacement, less troublesome and better with plants. But not nearly as fun, and he, Harry, was having to provide the bulk of the comedic relief, and he and Hermione were slowly filling the Ron-shaped hole in their lives with quips, inside jokes, and a commitment to play a 'silly game' at least twice weekly. A short game, usually. Not more than 20 minutes. Hermione had homework and studying to do.

At Hermione's request, he pulled back on how much he was using the Time Turner, though without Quidditch practice, he was practicing Defence even more than before, and all the spells were coming along, even the Summoning Charm.

And all the time, he kept looking at the Marauder's Map, hoping to catch sight of Sirius Black. He never did, but he saw another name. It hardly meant anything to him at first, but every time he saw it, it puzzled him more.

Peter Pettigrew.

:::

I don't hate Ron, but I see Ron's 'courtship' of Hermione as 7 years of negging.

But he wasn't always that bad. In my headcanon, Ron started trying to flirt with Hermione third-year, and he did this by saying, at random moments, "I'm not a poofter. And hey, Hermione, look, I've got armpit hair now. This one long one grows all the way down to my wrist. I don't know how it got that far without my noticing."


	6. Chapter 6: Mishappenings

**Ch 6: Mishappenings**

Harry and Hermione were sitting at their table in the common room, Hermione studying for Astronomy while Harry made a very angry knight from a chessboard fly around the common room, ranting up a storm.

Fred and George came through the portrait hole, and Harry flagged them down.

Fred said, "You wish to speak to us, Queen and King of Gryffindor..."

George said, "The Golden Duo..."

"The married couple..."

Hermione said. "We're not married. Stop saying that. A first-year girl the other day very seriously asked me how we got the Magistrate to approve."

George said, "You do know most third-year couple last about between two hours and two weeks?"

"You two have been going steady for coming up on five months."

"By ickle thirdie standards, that's a lifetime."

Harry said, "Peter Pettigrew."

The name brought them to a halt, but only briefly.

Fred said, "The mishap in the map. We reckon he was one of the original map makers, and a ghost of him, sort of, is still in the map."

George said, "Mostly the map has him in Gryffindor Tower, but he does go to classes and the like. The Marauders were Gryffindors, see. The map told us that much."

Harry said, "I haven't been seeing him in Gryffindor Tower. I've been seeing him around the grounds, in the kitchens, the dungeons, all sorts of places. But wait, you think Peter Pettigrew was one of the mapmakers? How sure are you?"

Fred said, "Pretty sure. The map'll tell jokes and insult people if you promp it. Pettigrew is Wormtail, based on how the map responds when we mention the name."

Harry met Hermione's eyes. At their weekly sessions, he always probed Lupin for details about his parents, and a lot had slipped. Harry said, "Peter Pettigrew was part of a group of four friends. James Potter, Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin."

"Sirius..." George shook his head, clearly disliking the idea of Sirius Black being one of the Marauders. "It could be a different Peter Pettigrew. There can't have only ever been one wizard to have the name."

Harry rubbed his chin, surprised, and said, "Prongs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. I didn't think it meant anything at the time, but my Patronus is a stag. You saw that at the Quidditch match. Lupin told me that my dad's Patronus was a stag too, and he called it Prongs. My dad, James Potter, must've been Prongs."

"If that's true, then Lupin must be Moony," said Fred, sounding awed, then slapped his own hand over his mouth.

"Why not Padfoot?" said Hermione.

"No reason," said Fred.

"We just think Lupin's got a nice butt," said George. "He ought to moon everyone."

Fred sent George a withering glance at that poor excuse.

Hermione said, "It has nothing to do with his illness?"

Fred said, "His monthly illness?"

Harry said, "The one he doesn't want anyone talking about."

Hermione said, "The reason he prefers rare meat at the dinner table."

George said, "His furry little problem, one might call it."

The four of them gave each other significant looks, and Hermione said, "I wonder how many people have figured it out."

"Must be loads," said Fred. "Snape made it bloody obvious with all those hints. You'd have to be right dull to not see it."

Harry, who hadn't seen it until Hermione had practically told him, pretended to himself that he had.

George said, "If that's true, Sirius Black must be Padfoot."

"Padfoot's always been my favorite," said Fred. "This is horrible."

George commiserated with Fred, assuring him that Moony and Prongs were both better anyway.

Harry was shocked in a good way by the idea that his dad had helped make the map, and shocked in a bad way that Sirius Black had helped too.

Hermione said, "What if it weren't a mistake in the map? What if it were true that Peter Pettigrew is still here?"

George said, "We've walked into rooms where the map said 'Peter Pettigrew' loads of times, and he's never been there."

Hermione said, "But what if it were true? What would that mean? Just think about it for a moment."

After a moment's thought, Fred said, "It would mean something right weird, it would. Peter Pettigrew's been turning up on the map ever since we first got it, years ago."

To Harry, the idea was absurd, yet Hermione's face was screwed up in concentration.

Harry said, "What, you think he's spent the last 12 years hiding out in Hogwarts under an invisibility cloak, snitching food from the kitchens?"

"I don't know," she said. "But it's too much of a coincidence to think it doesn't mean anything. Harry, the next time you see Pettigrew's name on the map, we'll go there, and we'll use the spell Professor Lupin taught you for finding people."

"Hominum Revelio?" said Harry. "It's hard but it's not that hard. You could learn it right quick."

But as days went by, Harry didn't see Pettigrew's name, and they began to spend time on a different problem. What they were going to do about Buckbeak, who was scheduled for execution the day they finished their exams.

#

#

Exams, in Harry's opinion, went well. In Transfiguration, they turned teapots into tortoises, and Harry frowned about his tortoise looking more like a turtle, and Hermione fussed that the lines of her tortoise's shell didn't follow the shell's curve properly, but Harry knew he'd done better than anyone but her and she'd done better than anyone else.

Harry took grim pleasure in seeing that Ron's tortoise was little more than a teapot with stubby legs and a half-formed shell.

Charms was easy. They'd been casting Cheering Charms on each other often enough anyway, and the good mood from it persisted through his Runes exam, where he knew more answers than he'd expected. The first day of exams was over.

Care of Magical Creatures the next day was hardly an exam at all, and Harry didn't know whether to be proud or annoyed that he'd let Hermione nag him into studying for it, but the exam did leave plenty of time for talking with Hagrid about Buckbeak. Hagrid was as depressed as he said Buckbeak was, and he kept muttering, 'day after tomorrow.'

Potions wasn't great. When he finally got his Confusing Concoction to thicken, it thickened too much, but it wasn't gelatinous, at least, and Harry thought even Snape couldn't justify less than a P.

The Astronomy exam, at midnight on the tallest tower, was almost romantic once Hermione had finished checking her answers for the third time.

History of Magic on Wednesday morning was a bunch of questions Harry knew the answers to because he'd quizzed Hermione on them so often. The main challenge was making sure he used his own phrasings. Wednesday afternoon was Herbology, where he found himself wishing he'd tuned out Neville less, but a Cooling Charm he cast on himself and Hermione canceled out the heat of the greenhouses, even if it did nothing for his sunburning neck.

Thursday morning was Defence, a practical exam based around an obstacle course. Harry strolled through, feeling as if he could do it left-handed, and Hermione did everything perfectly until she entered the last obstacle, a very large trunk with a boggart inside.

There were three minutes of silence, and Professor Lupin was just about to enter to see what had gone wrong when Hermione exited, successful, but pale-cheeked and red-eyed.

Harry led her away from the others, and when a bit of color had returned to her cheeks, said, "What was it?"

"Professor McGonagall. She told me I'd failed out of Hogwarts. I made her small and I made her robes purple and green and I made her speak in a high squeaky voice like a child, while holding a sippy cup."

Harry said, "That took three minutes?"

She took his hand and squeezed it so hard it hurt. "At first it was you and Ron. You were saying awful things, and you said you much preferred Ron and I was only good helping with homework. I knew it wasn't real, but I couldn't think of any way to make it funny, so I just stood there. Since I wasn't running away, it turned into McGonagall. Trying another tact. That one, I could make funny."

And what could he say to that other than, "You know I'd never do that. You're a much better friend than Ron ever was."

"He's more fun than I am."

Harry shrugged. "He's more fun than I am too. Does that mean you like him more? There are more important things than fun." He pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek. "Hermione Granger, you are satisfying."

As the word 'satisfying' echoed in his ears, Harry winced, appalled at the chasm between how it had sounded in his head and how it sounded out loud. It made him think of 'satisfactory,' as in, 'good enough' and it also made him think of sexual things, especially since he'd just kissed her, but that wasn't what he'd meant at all.

Harry said, "Err, I mean satisfying like a hard day's work is satisfying. Err, no, that's not what I mean. I mean like a good meal is satisfying, it gives you what you really need to live. Not that you're food. I mean-"

Hermione kissed him. Her eyes were large and dark, and the paleness had left her cheeks entirely.

"I find you satisfying too," she said, and they proceeded hand in hand to the castle.

Harry thought it was the best moment of their whole relationship, until Hermione spoiled it by reciting facts about electricity consumption and per-capita retail square footage in preparation for her Muggle Studies exam. But that was only to be expected, so he smiled wryly and squeezed her hand.

At the top of the steps leading into the castle, was Minister Cornelius Fudge, sweating slightly in his pinstriped cloak. He started at the sight of Harry, and Harry released Hermione's hand. From the way she was rigid, he knew she recognized Fudge from the paper.

"Hello there, Harry!" Fudge said. "Just had an exam, I expect? Nearly finished?"

"Yes," said Harry. "It was my last."

Hermione, not being on speaking terms with the Minister of Magic, stood awkwardly at his side.

"Lovely day," said Fudge, casting an eye over the lake. "Pity... pity..."

He sighed deeply and looked down at Harry.

"I'm here on an unpleasant mission, Harry. The Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures required at witness to the execution of a mad hippogriff. As I needed to visit Hogwarts to check on the Black situation, I was asked to step in."

Harry did his very best Hermione impression. "The hippogriff Buckbeak? Friendly animal. I watched what happened, and Draco Malfoy very clearly disregarded the Professor's instructions regarding the proper way to approach hippogriffs, and I saw the injury. Just a quick peck. Looked like the sort of cut Madam Pomfrey could clear up in 10 minutes."

Fudge peered at Harry. "I'm afraid that however it appeared to you, the injury young Mr. Malfoy suffered was far more severe than that."

Hermione raised her hand, which caused Fudge to give her a puzzled look and nod for her to speak.

Hermione said, "If you're here to witness the execution, does that mean the appeal has already happened?"

"No, it's scheduled for this afternoon," said Fudge.

Hermione's lips thinned, and two wizards came though the castle doors behind Fudge. One was so ancient he appeared to be withering before their very eyes; the other was tall and strapping, with a thin black mustache. Harry gathered they were representatives of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, because the very old wizard squinted toward Hagrid's cabin and said, in a feeble voice, "Dear, dear, I'm getting too old for this... Two o'clock, isn't it, Fudge?"

The black-mustached man was fingering one broad thumb along the blade of a shining axe.

Harry tried to think of something else he might say, and Hermione nudged him hard in the ribs and jerked her head toward the entrance hall.

"Nice seeing you again, Minister," said Harry, and Harry and Hermione walked up into the entrance hall.

When they'd got far enough away to speak without being overheard, Harry said, "Why'd you stop me? It sounds like Hagrid could use all the help he can get."

Looking miserable, Hermione said, "As long as Hagrid keeps his head and argues his case properly, they can't possibly execute Buckbeak."

"You don't believe that," he said.

"If plan B is go, we don't want them thinking of us after."

Harry thought of how the black-mustached man had stroked his axe. "Plan B is go," he said.

#

#

The first problem with simply freeing Buckbeak was that Hagrid would be blamed for it. Which meant Hagrid needed an alibi. And in order for Hagrid to have an alibi, the Ministry needed to know when Buckbeak escaped.

They were depending a lot on luck, but every plan they'd come up with that didn't depend on luck had the downside of being hilariously complicated or extremely criminal, or both.

The first step was to do it while invisible. The second step was to be somewhere else while it happened.

They got a letter from Hagrid saying simply that he'd lost the appeal and the execution was scheduled for sunset. Harry fingered his cloak, and they went to dinner together.

After dinner, they disappeared around a corner together, and Hermione checked her watch and wrote the time on her pocket planner. Harry threw the invisibility cloak over them, and they left the castle, walking as quietly as they could, escaping onto the grounds, heading down the hill to Hagrid's cabin.

They did a circuit of the cabin, and saw Buckbeak tied to a fence in Hagrid's pumpkin patch.

They set down to wait on the lee side of a little wooded knoll, and Harry took out the Marauder's Map.

Harry frowned, surprised by what he saw, wishing it could've happened at any other time. "According to the map, Peter Pettigrew is with Hagrid in his cabin."

Hermione glanced at the falling sun, large and orange, gilding the trees. "I don't think we have time. Where's Minister Fudge?"

"Coming down from the Great Hall, with the other two, and Dumbledore." And there was another name ahead of them, headed straight for the cabin, nearly to it. "What the hell? Why now?" said Harry.

"Language, Harry. But what is it?"

Rather than pointing to the map, he pointed to familiar red-headed figure coming down the hill.

"Ron," Hermione breathed, as the boy ran up to Hagrid's door and knocked on it.

"He's going to mess up everything," said Harry.

Hermione said, "Or he'll supply a needed distraction. Harry, how long until Fudge gets here?"

He looked at the map. The group of four hadn't moved far since he'd last looked. "They're going slowly," he said. "Probably because of that old man." Either Walden Macnair or Elvrid Gnocklebicker. He had no idea which was which.

From her bag, Hermione took out a large pair of red-handled garden shears. She'd Transfigured them after examining Buckbeath's mouth, and its blades were curved and slightly serrated. They hoped it would look as if Buckbeak had bit through the rope.

She handed the shears to Harry, who took them absently, still staring at the map. There would've still been plenty of light to read by if he hadn't been in the shadow of a tree, but he was, so it was getting hard to read, but it looked to him as if Pettigrew and Ron were on top of each other.

Fudge and the others came down from the castle, looked at Buckbeak, tied to the fence in the pumpkin patch, and the one with the axe knocked on the door.

Inside the cabin, Pettigrew and Ron separated. Pettigrew came out the side of the cabin, and a moment later, Ron went out the back door.

Hagrid opened the door, and the wizards followed him inside.

Hermione said, "Harry, we're golden."

Gathering the invisibility cloak firmly around himself, he left Hermione hiding behind a log, looking at the map

Still holding the invisibility cloak tight, Harry hopped the fence leading into Hagrid's pumpkin patch, and he saw what he had not expected.

Ron, in the pumpkin patch, bowing to Buckbeak.

:::  
I don't especially like Ron, but he's not a bad guy, you know?

Two more chapters until the end? Maybe three.


	7. Chapter 7: Stop and Think

**Ch 7: Stop and Think**

As Harry watched from beneath his invisibility cloak, within Hagrid's pumpkin patch, Ronald Weasley bowed to Buckbeak, and Buckbeak knelt back.

From the window of Hagrid's cabin came a monotonous voice. " _It is the decision of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, that the Hippogriff Buckbeak, hereafter called the condemned, shall be executed on the sixth of June at sundown._

Ron tugged at the knot trying Buckbeak to the fence.

"Ron," Harry hissed.

"Harry?"

"Shhh. Out of the way." Except Ron had already got Buckbeak to let him close. "Damn it. Ron, here." The shears and his hand appeared out of the invisibility cloak. "Cut it with this," he whispered. "It'll look like Buckbeak did it."

Surprised but not foolish, Ron snatched the shears and frantically worked them against the rope, sawing almost.

"Don't touch the rope with your hands," whispered Harry. They'd looked into it, and while wizards didn't use fingerprints, they could achieve much the same effect. Which was why he was wearing a thin cotton glove on his off-hand. He reached over and pulled the rope taut, gulping slightly when Buckbeak looked at his suddenly visible hand with fierce golden eyes.

From Hagrid's window, Harry heard, _"...sentenced to execution by beheading, to be carried out by the committee's appointed executioner, Walden Mcnair._

The rope cut through, and Ron whispered, "Buckbeak, shoo, shoo, get out of here."

Harry pushed Ron aside and hit Buckbeak with a stinging hex. Buckbeak shrieked and rose into the air, wings flapping. The voices in the cabin cut out, and Harry hit Buckbeak with another Stinging Hex, driving the hippogriff out over the forest and out of sight.

Ron bolted out of the pumpkin patch, for the trees, dropping the shears in his haste, and Harry doubled back, looking to see where he'd dropped it.

The door creaked, and Harry slipped to the other side of a massive pumpkin near the edge of the patch.

The door to Hagrid's cabin opened fully, and Harry froze.

He could not see them, but he heard them.

"Where is it?" said the reedy voice of the Committee member. "Where is the beast?"

Steps came into the pumpkin patch. There was a swishing noise, and the thud of an axe. The executioner seemed to have swung it into a fence in anger. And then came howling, and he heard Hagrid's words through his sobs.

"Gone! Gone! Bless his little beak, he's gone! Musta pulled himself free! Beaky, you clever boy!"

Harry scanned the skies, hoping very much that Buckbeak would take a good long flight and not come back any time soon. He thought of creeping away, but decided he was better off staying still, trying not to breathe, and trusting in his invisibility cloak.

"Someone untied him!" the executioner snarled. "We should search the grounds, the forest—"

Dumbledore said, "You might take a closer look at where he was tied, dear man. The rope appears to have been bitten through by a large beaked animal. Hippogriffs can be quite perceptive of people's intentions. Perhaps it read the mood and took off. I wish you luck in finding a flying beast at night in the Forbidden Forest. Search the skies if you will... Hagrid, I could do with a cup of tea. Or a large brandy."

Peering round the pumpkin, Harry caught a glimmer of the shears in the dimming light. The shears were behind Dumbledore. Behind all of them. But one might turn and see them at any moment.

" _Accio_ _shears_ ," he whispered and the shears winged to him through the dusk. He caught them quietly with Seeker reflexes.

"What was that?" said the Committee Member.

"I'm afraid that was me," said Dumbledore, "I'm finding that, in my old age, brussels sprouts do not like me half so well as I like them. The brandy settles my innards, you see."

The Committee Member mumbled about cabbage, and Hagrid led the lot of them back into his cabin, the door closing with a thwack.

When they'd been in the house a moment, Harry left the pumpkin patch, stepping from stone to stone so the sound of twigs cracking couldn't betray him. He crept back to where he'd left Hermione.

Ron was with her, and they were looking at each other awkwardly.

Hermione whispered, "So you came to free Buckbeak?"

Ron said, "I came here for Hagrid. But when I saw my chance... But you two came to do it, huh?"

Harry coughed and dropped his invisibility cloak.

Ron said, "Harry, I accidentally dropped those shears when I ran away."

"I know," said Harry, waving them. With his hand, he untransfigured them, revealing two butter knives filched from the Great Hall. Hermione dropped them in her bag.

There was enough light left for Harry and Hermione to make out each others' faces. Harry inclined his head slightly toward Ron and raised an eyebrow. Hermione shrugged minimally.

They'd intended to not be seen, and to use the Time Turner to set themselves up with an alibi by being in the common room while they were freeing Buckbeak. Now they'd been seen, and seen by Ron, and a few months ago there wouldn't have been any question of not including Ron, but that was a few months ago.

A loud bray of laughter floated up from Hagrid's cabin, and without any discussion they went a few steps into the trees, down the side of the hill.

Hermione said, "That was good of you, comforting Hagrid."

Ron shrugged awkwardly. "He told me what you two did. Researching for the case and all. I sort of abandoned that a little way in."

They all thought of why Ron had abandoned that.

Ron looked shamefaced at the ground and muttered, "Sorry."

"What was that?" said Hermione.

Harry had spent a lot of time thinking about Ron, and he thought he knew how this would go. Ron would apologize. Not well, but he'd do it. They'd guardedly accept, Ron would explain why he was such a git. His reasons would be wrong-headed, based on insecurities and misconceptions, but they'd end up apologizing over it more than he'd apologized.

It would be long and loud and, possibly, teary.

Harry said, "We don't have time for this. Ron, was there anyone else in the Hagrid's cabin with you?"

"Hmm? No. Why?"

"The Marauders Map has a mishap, probably. Sometimes it shows Peter Pettigrew."

Ron said, "All I found in Hagrid's cabin was Scabbers."

"You're joking," said Harry.

"No, it was him. When I was hiding from the Minister and the others he got away from me again, but I found him."

Hermione gave Ron a triumphant look, and Harry too. She said, "See, Crookshanks didn't eat him. I knew he didn't. He's a sweet cat."

Harry left that alone, and to his surprise, Ron said only, "He wasn't very sweet cat to Scabbers, so you can see why I suspected him. But I probably shouldn't have asked you to get rid of Crookshanks. And hey, can the map see animals?"

Harry said, "It sees Mrs. Norris, but I haven't noticed other animals on it. I've never seen Scabbers on it." He was about to ask Hermione if she still saw Pettigrew on the map when he heard branches cracking.

The sound grew closer, a large creature approaching. They stared into the trees, and Harry wished dusk wasn't so prompt.

A grey head, a large beak, the front legs of an eagle, and the hind legs of horse. Harry let out a relieved breath, then tensed.

Hermione said, "If Buckbeak goes back to Hagrid's now... We have to keep him here until Fudge and the others return to the castle."

Harry approached Buckbeak, hoping that the beast didn't recognize him as the cause of the Stinging Hexes. He stared straight up into the hippogriffs orange eyes, careful not to blink, and bowed. Buckbeak slid to his scaly knees and then stood up again. Harry grabbed the ragged end of the rope hanging from Buckbeak's neck.

He glanced in the direction of Hagrid's Cabin, which, though out of sight, was not far away. Going deeper into the Forbidden Forest was a very bad idea, but they could go along its edge further from Hagrid's cabin.

They walked quietly in the half light, unwilling to attract attention, but eventually they had gone far enough that Hermione felt secure enough to use Lumos to look at the map. Hermione said, "According to the map, Pettigrew's not far from the Whomping Willow, and Fudge, Dumbledore and the other two are going back to the castle."

Harry said, "We can't just take him back to Hagrid. They might come looking again tomorrow, and even if Hagrid was willing to hide Buckbeak, you know as well as me he's rubbish at keeping a secret."

Ron said, "So what else are we going to do? We can't stay out here with him, and if we tie him to a tree who knows what might eat him. Hermione, couldn't you magic Buckbeak somehow?"

"Sure, Ronald, I'll figure out right now how to cast Animal Compulsion spells. I'll derive it from first principles. I mean, if it's magic we need, I'll be the one to cast it, won't I? It's not as if you have a wand too."

"I just meant that you know the most."

"Well if you didn't insist on regarding studiousness as feminine and femininity as bad, and then turn right back around and suggest studying makes me not a proper girl and-"

Harry said, "Later, I said. We'll have this all out later. When we're not leading a fugitive hippogriff through the Forbidden Forest at night. Who knows what's out here."

As if in answer, another form moved through the darkness. Harry squinted. Night wasn't fully on, but it was near. The moon was full but blocked by a wisp of cloud. Hermione brightened her Lumos, and made it shine forward, almost like the beam of a torch.

A centaur approached, and one he'd met before. And not a friendly one.

"Bane?" said Harry.

The centaur looked puzzled. "How did you come to here so quickly?"

"Err, well, you know. We walked."

Bane shook off his puzzlement. "If I'm to shelter the hippogriff, I should know its name."

Shelter the hippogriff? "This is Buckbeak."

Bane met Buckbeak's gaze. The hippogriff looked at him at him curiously, and then bowed _first,_ Bane's bow coming a moment after. Bane took a knife from... somewhere, trotted up to Buckbeak, and cut off the rope.

Bane said, "Jupiter wavers this night."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, having no idea what to make of that. It was hardly dark enough yet to see it.

Ron said, "It should set right around when Mars rises."

Bane said, "Mars will as it will. Harry Potter, if Jupiter should resolves before Neptune rises, Neptune will brighten."

"Err, well, thanks. You'll take Buckbeak?"

Bane said, "With this, Harry Potter, I owe you nothing." The centaur disappeared into the forest, Buckbeak bounding happily behind him, leaving a confused trio in their wake.

"That was lucky," said Ron.

"Why would he owe me anything?" said Harry. "And what did he mean about Jupiter?"

Ron shrugged, "He thinks something important will happen tonight, and it could go either way. If it's resolves before about midnight, it will be good, but if it's resolved after midnight, it will be bad."

Ron saw how they were looking after him and said, "What? Unlike you two, I did a full year of Divination. And honestly Harry, no offense mate, but it was a lot easier to focus without you there distracting me."

"Me distracting you!" said Harry.

"You were always looking at me waiting for a joke. Good King Harry, demanding a performance from his jester, Ron. You never really liked me. You just kept me around to goof off with, like a talking pet."

Harry stared, startled both by how bitter Ron sounded and by how completely wrong he was. "Ron, you were the second real friend I made in my life, after Hagrid, and I don't exactly get along with my relatives. What does that tell you? But we'll talk later. Right now, we have a castle to sneak into."

Hermione said, "We're near the Whomping Willow. Near Pettigrew."

Harry amended what he'd said. "We'll sneak into the castle after we investigate a mishap in the map."

They came out of the forest, onto the grounds themselves, being careful to stay well out of reach of the Willow. Hermione dimmed her lighting charm, and shielded it from view of the castle with her own body.

They followed her as she paced around in a spiral. "Should be right here," she said, yet there was no one there.

" _Hominum Revelio_ ," said Harry, and shrugged when he got the result. "Just us three," he said. "The map's mishapping, like Fred and George said."

"I found Scabbers!" said Ron, holding up the rat, clenched firmly in one hand.

Hermione grabbed Harry and roughly pulled him back to stand by her, to look at the map. She pointed, and Harry looked from the map, to Ron, and back.

On the map, the dots that were Peter Pettigrew and Ronald B. Weasley were on top of each other, their names nearly overlapping.

Hermione found her voice first. "I'm glad you found him. Let's go back to the castle."

"Hermione..." said Harry, an edge to his voice.

"Play it cool," she whispered. Then louder, "Come on Ron, I'm glad you found Scabbers. Make sure you don't lose him again. Let's go." She took another look at the map and she froze. By the light of her own spell, he saw the blood run from her face.

"Harry," she said, "Put your cloak on."

Harry reached for it, saying, "Hermione, what is it?"

A massive black dog burst past them, clipping Harry hard enough that he fell. Its vast mouth fastened on Ron leg, and the dog was running, dragging Ron as if Ron was no more than a shrieking chew toy.

Ron held onto Scabbers in a death grip, screaming, and the dog ran into the reach of the Whomping Willow, but when Harry chased after them, it was Harry it swung at, a branch striking his chest and throwing him back.

Harry came back to his feet in time to see Ron and the dog disappearing into the gap between the tree's roots. He didn't think, but simply cast, aiming for the trunk. " _Stupefy, Stupefy Stupefy Stupefy_ _,_ _"_ heedless of the flashes of light created, only distantly conscious of Hermione beside him casting Petrifying Charms at the tree.

When a spell hit a knot on the trunk, the tree froze, and Harry dashed forward, heedless of Hermione's yells to stop, and he hit the ground when he reached the trunk, wriggling between the gaps in the roots that the dog had dragged Ron through, coming out into a low passage he couldn't stand properly in.

He cast the Lighting Charm, and, deeply crouched, ran as fast as he could. He heard Hermione's cries to wait, and yelled back, "Get help!" as he pounded on.

So they'd lose points for being out after curfew and wouldn't have a Buckbeak alibi. So what? A massive dog had captured Ron. He didn't have any theory as to why beyond weird magical rabies, but he didn't need a theory to respond.

His breaths grew sharp and painful, but he pushed through the stitch growing in his side, habituated to it by long Quidditch practices and duels with Lupin, and the tunnel rose, then twisted, and he burst through a small opening into a disordered, dusty room. Paper was peeling from the walls; there were stains all over the floor; every piece of furniture was broken as though somebody had smashed it. The windows were all boarded up.

More importantly, he didn't see the dog.

Moved to caution by the change in circumstance, he crept up the hall, eyeing the ceiling when it creaked, moving slowly up the crumbling staircase, wand at the ready.

It was only a dog. One good spell, and it'd be out. But it was fast, and it wouldn't do to be taken by surprise like before.

A door at the top of the landing was partway open, and dim light came out of it.

" _Nox,_ " whispered Harry, and the light at the end of his wand went out. He kicked the door, open, Stunning Spell at the ready, and saw Ron sitting leaned against a magnificent four-poster bed, clutching his bloodied leg.

Harry nearly dashed to him, but thought better of it. "Where's the dog?"

"Not a dog," Ron moaned, teeth gritted.

Harry was jerked forward, tugged through the air, hitting the dusty hangings of the bed, landing halfway on the mattress. He came to his feet, coughing against the cloud of dust that had entered his lungs, and the door closed, revealing a man.

The man had filthy, matted hair that hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull. His yellow teeth were bared in a grin.

Sirius Black, holding Ron's wand.

Harry said, "You don't look good, you should see a _Stupefy, Expelliarmus, Stupefy, Digitus-Wibbly, Stu-"_

Every spell was stopped by simple, precise movements of Ron's wand in Black's hand, and then Harry was silenced, his mouth working, but no sound coming out.

Black's voice was a croak, "Not bad," he said, grin wide, seeming genuinely pleased.

Harry tried to cast _Finite Incantatem_ , but with no voice, it didn't work. He'd imagined this meeting a thousand time, but even after Lupin had shown him how very far he was from ready to face an adult wizard, he'd never imagined the fight going like this. Him rendered helpless in an instant.

"But I'd like you to speak," Black said, his own voice sounding as if he had lost the habit of using it. " _Expelliarmus."_

Harry's wand flew from his hand and Black snatched it from the air with only two fingers, most of his off-hand occupied with holding a motionless Scabbers.

And that was odd. Very odd. Confusing thoughts ran through his head, but he paid them no attention. Sirius Black was before him, and Harry's focus was on Black slipping Harry's wand in his pocket.

With moans and hisses, Ron pushed himself to his feet, fists clenched—and he collapsed back onto the bed when Black hit him with a silent Jelly-Legs Jinx.

Black's eyes bored back into Harry. "I thought you'd come and help your friend. Your father would've done the same for me. Brave of you not to run for a teacher. I'm grateful... it will make everything much easier..."

Harry's vision turned red, and he desperately wanted to charge forward and lay into Black with his fists, but he heard Hermione in the back of his mind asking him whether he wanted to win or emote.

He wanted to win, and he'd told Hermione to get help. If he could keep Black talking long enough, a Professor would come. Dumbledore, even, if he were lucky.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to sound merely curious when he said, "So you and my dad were friends then?"

The door burst open, Hermione crashing through. She and Black looked mutually surprised by the sight of the other, but it was Hermione who reacted first with a shouted, _"Expelliarmus!"_

Ron's wand shot from Black's hand. Harry darted forward and snatched it from the air as Sirius drew Harry's wand.

Harry and Hermione faced him, wands ready, as Harry realized that Hermione had followed him instead of going for help. They'd have to defeat Black themselves.

Black began to laugh. "And the girl makes her entrance. Well done."

Harry raised Ron's wand to strike while Black was distracted, and hesitated when Hermione said, "You're the dog, aren't you? And you've stunned Scabbers, haven't you? That's why he's not moving."

"Right on both!"

Ron pulled himself to his feet by the bedpost, and spoke between teeth gritted against pain. Ronald Weasley, who Harry had hardly had a civil Hello with in five months, said, "If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill me first!"

"There will be only one murder tonight," said Black.

And Harry was yelling at Black. He didn't know what, couldn't hear his own words over the roar in his ears.

But Hermione's voice broke through. "Harry, think! The dog wasn't a dog. Is that rat a rat?"

Harry stopped yelling, breathing heavily, and Black laughed harder. Black said. "You've found a keeper, Harry."

Hermione said, "Show us. If it's true, show us right now." She gulped. "That's why you waited, isn't it? Because you wanted Harry to see."

Black examined the rat in his hand. He pointed Harry's wand at it and a flash of blue-white light erupted from his wand. For a moment, Scabbers was frozen in midair, his small grey form twisting — Ron yelled — the rat hit the floor, there was another flash of light, and where Scabbers had been, a man was.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who'd lost a lot of weight in a short time.

Even as he was transforming, he was waking, pulled from the forced slumber of the Stunning Spell, and he shrieked when he saw Black, eyes darting toward the door.

Ron pointed and gibbered.

Sirius closed the door with his foot and leveled his wand at the man.

"Wait!" said Hermione. "Don't kill him!"

"I've been waiting 12 years to kill him!"

"But you didn't, not right away, because you want more. Don't you?"

Harry said, "Hermione, what is going on?"

"If you just think about it properly yourself-"

Harry yelled, "This is not the time for tutoring through the bloody Socratic method! What's going on?" According to the map, Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew, and now Black had turned Scabbers into a man. But Black had killed Pettigrew. Except he hadn't. Now Black was trying to kill Pettigrew. Scabbers. And when Black had snuck into the Gryffindor dorms, maybe it hadn't been Harry he was looking for. Maybe it had been Scabbers.

Harry said to the man who'd been Scabbers. "Who are you?"

The man turned fearful, beady eyes quivering with hope on him. "Peter Pettigrew."

Harry said to Black, "When you said only one murder, you meant... him?" He pointed to the man. "Pettigrew. Not me?"

Black said, "I would never hurt you."

"You killed my parents!"

"I don't deny it," Black said very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story."

Harry's head pounded, and he would've attacked if Hermione hadn't said, "Who betrayed the Potters to You-Know-Who?"

"He did," said Black and Pettigrew together, pointing at each other.

The wooden door shattered like a thin glass window. In a dazzle of spells, Severus Snape stepped through. Harry's wand was torn from Black's grasp, before anyone could react. Snape's face was stretched in a cruel smile as he thrust his wand at Black, a spell forming so powerful Harry thought he could feel the magic building, and Snape froze, so suddenly and completely that for a moment Harry thought Hermione had petrified their Potions Professor.

"Peter Pettigrew?" said Severus Snape.

Pettigrew said, "Severus, kill him."

Black growled. "Snivellus. What the hell are you doing here?"

Snape's eyes were wild, and he took a firmer grip on his wand. "I'm going to enjoy this too much," he said.

Hermione said, "Pettigrew's a rat animagus. He's spent the last 12 years pretending to be the Weasley family pet rat."

Snape said to Pettigrew. "I always knew you were pathetic, but that's taking it far."

"I, I was frightened. I knew he would get out. I knew he would come for me."

Hermione said, "Who was the Potter's Secret Keeper?"

"I was, at first," said Black.

"See," said Pettigrew. "Of course he was. Dumbledore knew. He cast the Fidelius Charm himself. We can trust Dumbledore."

Black said, "After Dumbledore left, Lily transferred the secret to you. My damn idea. Mine. I convinced them. I thought I was so clever.

"Lying!" cried Pettigrew. "Black was the Secret Keeper, not me, never me."

For Harry, the assumptions of a year were thrown on end. The hours he'd spent daydreaming of the confrontation suddenly nonsensical, the mental reflexes born of imagination misfiring. He felt dizzy. He felt as if he might throw up, and he could hardly follow what the others were saying, never mind examine what they meant.

Hermione said, "So you see, Professor Snape, it looks as if Black may be innocent and didn't kill anyone at all."

"Not for long," Black growled. "I came here to kill Peter. I'm going to kill Peter."

"Excellent idea," said Snape. He conjured a knife and tossed it to Black, who caught it by the hilt. "Go ahead, mutt, kill him."

Pettigrew whimpered.

Hermione said, "But if Black's innocent and he kills Pettigrew, he won't be able to prove it, and even if he did, it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't be innocent anymore."

Snape's black eyes glittered, his lips pressed into the small half-smirk Harry was used to.

And not wanting what Snape wanted was a reflex ingrained deeply into Harry Potter. Practically instinct, after three years of being in Snape's class. He moved in front of Pettigrew and said, "He's coming back to the castle with us. Both of them are."

Pettigrew pawed at his legs. "Yes, brave Harry, good Harry, so much like your parents."

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?" roared Black. "HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"

Harry felt sure Black would've killed Pettigrew right then if he hadn't been in the way.

Snape's smirk tightened, as if were enjoying a play.

Harry said, "I don't even know if you're really innocent or if he really was the Secret Keeper." The explanations and revelations were still burbling through his head, refusing to form a concrete picture. And he'd had a concrete picture not 15 minutes ago, and that had proven to be wrong. "If you're innocent, you deserve to not be hunted by the Ministry."

Black barked a laugh. "What I deserve? It's all my fault. My idea."

Hermione spoke gently, as if to a child. "You're Harry's godfather. The only one he has. I'm sure he'd like to get to know you."

Black looked from Pettigrew to Harry.

Harry said, "You could tell me about my parents. No one's told me much."

Black deflated, hand trembling a moment before he dropped the knife.

"How touching," said Snape. "But lethal force is permitted against you, Black. I'd get away with killing you. In fact, even now, I'd get a medal for it." Snape's look was feral, and Harry envisioned Snape killing Black right in front of him.

Snape twirled his wand, "But for delivering you to the castle, along with a man thought dead, I will receive a greater reward. _Incarcerous._ "

Tight cords wrapped around both Pettigrew and Black. With another wave of Snape's wand and a muttered incantation, three stretchers appeared, and Ron, and a protesting Black and Pettigrew were levitated onto them, the straps buckling them in.

Pettigrew said, "Severus, we're on the same side. You followed him. I know you did. You were a Death Eater. To turn me in is to betray the Dark Lord. But if you free, me, I'll, I'll seek him out. I'll bring him back. I can do it."

Harry's eyes widened. His stomach dropped. It made far too much sense, yet no sense at all. On the one hand, he couldn't believe Dumbledore would have a servant of Voldemort for a Professor. On the other hand, of course Snape was a Death Eater. He would kill them, and free Pettigrew, and Pettigrew would bring Voldemort back.

Snape's voice was silky. "Have you not heard that I was the Headmaster's spy on the Dark Lord? Perhaps not. Rats hear little and read less. But even if it weren't true, it wouldn't matter. You'll not receive any help from the Dark Lord's former servants. The opposite, in fact. It was on your information that he went to his doom. That's why you've been hiding all these years."

"I'll do anything for you. I'll help you. I'm a very powerful-"

Snape silenced Pettigrew with a wave of his wand, then stunned him. Any doubt Harry'd had that Pettigrew had been the real betrayer had vanished. Doubts he had about Snape, however, were as strong as ever.

From his stretcher, Black said, "Let me off of here, Snivellus."

Snape silenced him as well. He seemed almost cheery. Harry had never seen Snape cheery before. "Potter, Granger, come." Snape went down the stairs, the stretchers floating ahead of him, Harry and Hermione following. They came to a boarded up door that Snape shattered with a spell, and they stepped into the night.

Harry realized the house they'd been in was the Shrieking Shack. He spared a thought for how odd it was that they hadn't noticed any ghosts at all, but his mind turned to more important matters.

He said to Snape, "Er, can I have my wand?"

Snape arched an eyebrow and gave Harry his wand. In turn, Harry jogged up to Ron's stretcher and gave Ron his own wand back. Rather than casting Lumos, he let his eyes adjust to the night, thankful there was a path to follow to Hogwarts, and turned his wand on Pettigrew in case he woke and tried to turn back into a rat.

Snape was a git, and he trusted him less than ever, but it was good thing he'd shown up.

From behind him, Snape said, "Potter, Granger, Weasley, we will discuss later what you were doing out after curfew."

Harry decided that they had started talking with Ron as they strolled the grounds, and they'd been so wrapped up with their conversation that they hardly noticed the time pass. Now he just had to communicate that cover story to the others.

Black, he saw, though silenced, was still yelling, mouth moving rapidly. Harry patted Black's shoulder, and the man stopped yelling.

The night was quickly growing chill, and Harry wrapped his arms about himself, wishing he was dressed warmer. He drifted toward Hermione and put an arm around her for warmth, grateful that she was left handed, which meant they could side hug or hold hands and still have their wand hands free. Like they were perfectly matched.

Not that it meant anything. He was just a silly 13-year-old. And betrayer or not, Sirius Black was clearly at least half mad, and his parents had died, anyway. He could hear it again. His father's shout-

"Dementors!" yelled Harry.

"They're coming," said Snape. "The dementors have a kiss-on-sight order for you, Black. And I can't be expected to fight Ministry appointed guardians going about their lawful business."

Harry's blood ran cold. Snape was going to let them kill Black. Perhaps that had been his plan from the moment he'd put him on a stretcher. Harry would have to save Black himself. But it was hard, with his mother's voice in his ears, to think any happy thoughts.

From his stretcher, Ron managed a brilliant Lumos, revealing dozens and dozens of black shapes. Black was panicking, his mouth wide in a soundless scream.

Snape laughed. Something Harry had never seen him do before. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ Snape said, and a silver doe burst from his wand, galloping at the dementors, driving them back.

With Snape's Patronus out, Harry found his happy thought. She was standing right next to him, after all. _"Expecto Patronum!"_ he shouted, and his own brilliant stag leapt out to join Snape's doe.

" _Petrificus Totalus_!" shouted Hermione, and Harry looked where she aimed just in time to see her spell fly wide amid the dark and dementors, as Pettigrew, the Stunning Spell broken by the dementors' presence as surely as if by a bucket of cold water, leapt off the stretcher, scampering immediately into the overhanging forest.

Harry cursed and tore after him, knowing that if he was going to catch a rat at night in the Forbidden Forest, he didn't have a moment to lose. Pettigrew dashed around the trunk of a tree with the shape of an hourglass burned into it, and Harry stopped when he came around it, listening, hoping to hear the rustling of the rat moving.

It was hard to hear anything with Hermione trampling over the ground behind him.

"Shhh!" he said.

She threw a chain over his neck, her chest pressed against his back, and turned an hourglass once.

:::

There's a scene in Deathly Hallows (when Obliviating Xenophillus) where Hermione casts a spell while holding Harry's left hand, and they're apparently facing the same direction. So, Hermione must be casting the spell with her left hand. So she's left-handed. Or she's ambidextrous. Or it was just a mistake on the author's part. Or I need to work on my reading comprehension.

Two more chapters, I think.

Ron.

If you're enjoying this, please get Monstrosity, by JLL, (L, J L) on amazon. In the books department. It's good.


	8. Chapter 8: Time Shenanigans

**Ch 8: Time Shenanigans**

With its expandable chain around both their necks, Hermione turned the Time Turner.

The world, spun, lights flashed, and the young night brightened.

When the whirling of time had ceased, it was early dusk, they were surrounded by trees, and he didn't see any path. They were within the forest, but Harry suspected they weren't very near where they'd been.

"Displacement," said Hermione, sounding displeased.

Harry said, "How many hours back did you go?"

"Just one." She checked her watch. "An hour and six."

"Then lets hope we're in a part of the forest near Hogsmeade. We have to find the tree with an hourglass burned in."

" _Point me_ _Hogsmeade_ _,"_ said Hermione. Her wand spun in her hand, and Hermione set off confidently in the direction it pointed.

Walking beside her, Harry said, "That seems a useful spell. Point me Voldemort's dried up prune of a soul. Point me Pettigrew. Point me lost suitcase of money."

Hermione said, "The location of Hogsmeade is neither secret from us nor unknown to us, Harry. It all has to do with how magic treats information. And I think I burned the hourglass into the tree. Soon, in cycle 2. That's why it was there in cycle 1. But that's alright. When I saw the hourglas, I took a good look. I know about where on the path from Hogsmeade we were, and it's the Birch next to the small flint boulder that doesn't belong, two trees down from the big ash that took a lightning bolt to the base."

She'd noticed that. In the dark. While dementors were attacking. Harry said, "Have I told you lately how amazing you are? Because you are. And don't go telling me it's only books and cleverness, because books and cleverness are amazing and you've got mental adaptability and presence of mind too. Not to mention you're brilliant at friendship and bravery."

Hermione buried a smile, said, " _Point me Shrieking Shack_ ," and adjusted their course slightly.

After walking a few minutes with no sign of Hogsmeade, Harry grew concerned. They hadn't been far outside the town when the dementors attacked. Harry said, "I don't remember being displaced this far before."

Hermione said, "The 'Forbidden Forest around Hogsmeade and Hogwarts,' is a much bigger location than just 'Hogwarts.' A lot more room for displacement." She increased her pace, breath coming out in puffs of mist.

The air grew cold, frost formed on leaves, and Harry heard the screams of his mother.

Harry gripped Hermione, shouted, _"Expecto Patronum!"_ and as the silver stag raced back in the direction from which they'd come, Harry and Hermione broke into a run, still heading for Hogsmeade.

Through trees, over a slope, the cold and depression growing all the while, an awareness of dementors closing in. What sort of luck was this to run into them twice in one night?

Beneath a tree, Harry saw two centaurs. Near each other, yet in their stances, the set of their shoulders, Harry saw little friendliness. More like a confrontation. The centaurs looked up, hearing the humans running, and Harry shouted, "Run!"

One of centaurs raised a staff, and both trotted forward. And stopped as dementors came into view.

From behind, from ahead, from beside, a wide but tightening circle of soul sucking monsters in black cloaks.

Surrounded. No more running. He needed to cast a Patronus powerful enough to drive off dozens of dementors. Otherwise, he and Hermione might both be kissed. And he could already hear his mother's pleas.

He gripped Hermione's hand. Juvenile kisses and fireside chats. Hours spent studying till his head hurt, and satisfaction that he'd done so. The day he'd first cast his Patronus. They way she resisted rolling her eyes at him. The way, when he'd told her his deep, dark secret, that the hat had considered putting him in Slytherin, she hadn't thought it was dark at all.

" _Expecto Patronum!"_

Out of his wand burst the stag, more dazzling than ever before, so bright he could hardly look at it. It charged, and dementors fled before it. Beside him, Hermione was casting the spell, producing not a true Patronus, but a silver shield that was at least much better than nothing.

From the other sides, dementors closed in. The centaurs were shouting, and one swung its staff into a dementor.

It moved with the blow, and when the staff's curving path swung past, it moved in for the kiss.

"Prongs!" Harry yelled.

His Patronus leapt and rammed into the dementor, antlers first, glowing brighter and brighter. He squinted and shaded his eyes.

Like a strong wind dispersing black smoke, Prongs drove all the dementors back. They retreated so far the feel of them left entirely, and he hoped they'd fled all the way back to wherever they were based.

The silver stag trotted a wide circle around them, and Harry sank to one knee as he let the Patronus fade. It had felt in the moment like the Patronus was an independent creature doing all that, but it had been him, and he was sweating and breathing hard, feeling the blood course through his veins.

Hermione said, "Here. I have chocolate." She took a massive, two pound bar of Honeydukes chocolate from her bag, pulled back the wrapping, and broke off two pieces, one for her and one for him.

Taking it, Harry gasped out, "Why do you have that?"

"I always carry chocolate with me, what with dementors being stationed at the school." Lighting Lumos, she offered the bar to the centaurs, and Harry recognized them. Firenze and Bane, both very pale, especially Bane, who seemed weak on his legs, propping himself up with his staff.

Firenze took the bar and broke off two pieces. He took one for himself, placed it in his mouth, and offered the other to Bane, who ignored him.

"It will help," said Firenze.

"Human food," said Bane.

"A remedy against dementors," said Firenze, and again proffered a piece to Bane.

Reluctantly, Bane took it and chewed. He made a face and said, "Far too sweet." But color returned to his cheeks and he ceased leaning upon his staff.

It clicked in Harry's head.

Harry said, "Err, would you like a hippogriff? He's a nice hippogriff, but the Ministry wants to execute him, for reasons, but maybe you could give him a good home."

"And why do they want to slay this beast?" said Firenze.

"Because they're wankers," said Harry.

"Harry!" said Hermione.

Harry said, "We don't have much time. And it's true."

Hermione said, "There's a very spoiled, cruel boy named Draco Malfoy who's taking the Care of Magical Creatures class this year, and during our first lesson-"

"Bane will do it," said Firenze.

"I shall not."

Firenze said, "It would discharge your debt to him."

Bane said, "He led the dementors to us."

"Not intentionally. But intentionally, he saved your life."

Bane grimaced. He glared at Harry and glared at Firenze and said, "I will shelter this hippogriff. Where shall I find it?"

Harry said, "In the Forest, a little ways behind the Whomping Willow."

Hermione checked her watch and said, "The sooner the better."

Bane frowned at them again, and galloped off, seeming already recovered from his close encounter.

Hermione said, "The dementors won't catch him again, will they?"

Firenze said, "We can sense them coming, and we are faster than they. In this case, we were so engrossed in our... conversation that we did not notice them until too late. It will not happen again." Firenze looked at the sky. "Jupiter-"

"Wavers this night," said Harry. "Yes, we know. Sorry, but we really have to go. Hermione."

" _Point me Shrieking Shack_ ," she said, and they tore off in the direction the wand pointed, both running, worried about time.

After a little, Hermione stopped running, red-faced. Harry could've run a lot longer, normally, but after how he'd exhausted himself with the dementors, he was glad when she slowed to a walk.

"Sorry," she gasped. "I should've gone back two hours." She checked her watch and said, "We should be fine though."

After two minutes of walking, she started running again, and they'd only gone a few steps when she tripped over a tree root and landed hard, instinctively throwing her left arm up to keep her wand safe.

"Are you alright?" he said, helping her up. "You've got scratches. Hermione, even with a Lighting Charm, it's too dark for us be running."

"Too dark," said Hermione. "I'm an idiot. _I_ _bis Oculus_ _._ _"_ She tapped his head with her wand, and his lighting charm was suddenly far, far too bright.

 _"Nox,"_ he said, putting it out, and the night grew brighter. Not as bright as noon, but near, to early evening. He saw the trees and underbrush clearly. Yet there was no color. All was presented in shades of grey.

Harry said, "Brilliant. How did you find the time to learn extra spells while taking that many classes?"

Hermione said, "Dropping divination helped. _Ibis Oculus_." She tapped her own head, and they were off, sure-footed, no lighting charms in use, Harry feeling a lot better about their odds of seeing Pettigrew in his rat form.

Through the trees, they glimpsed the path to Hogsmeade and made for it, coming out onto it and facing indecision. Were they past where Pettigrew had escaped, or behind it?  
Hermione glanced around and started toward Hogsmeade. Harry was tempted to pull her close and throw the invisibility cloak over them, but they couldn't move quickly with it on. They'd have to depend on darkness and no one being about. After a few minutes, Hermione said, "I think we've gone too far," but she continued in the same direction. After all, if they hadn't gone too far and they turned back...

They were just about to turn back anyway when Harry spotted an old oak that had survived a lightning bolt to its base. He pointed, and Hermione squealed, running forward. Shortly after it was a Scots Birch next to a big black rock. "This should be it," Hermione said. With her wand, she burned the shape of a large hourglass through the bark, and transfigured the revealed wood so it would be reflective.

That way, cycle 1 Hermione would get the message to use the Time Turner.

They went behind the tree, standing a few steps back from it, lying in wait for Pettigrew and their cycle 1 selves. Harry said, "Trying to work out the cause and effect of all this is hurting my head."

"If you'd read about Time Turners, you'd understand it's really quite simple. According to the honorable Doctor Irene Barnstern, High Mugwump of the ICW, 'in linear time, causality is observed, but the universe gives not two figs about it. The objection to paradox is a purely human invention.'"

Hermione checked her watch. "We have some time." She sat on a log and picked up a rock. She transfigured the rock into a thick-sided glass jar with a perforated lid. She unscrewed the lid, nodded in a satisfied way, and cast the Unbreakable Charm on the jar.

"Brilliant again," said Harry.

Hermione said, "We're as well prepared as we can be without help."

"Help," said Harry, and smacked himself on the forehead. "I'm an idiot. _Expecto Patronum._ " The silver stag appeared, pawing spectrally at the ground before it, and Harry said, " _Nuntium._ Tell Albus Dumbledore that Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley and Snape are on the road to Hogsmeade, and they're being attacked by dementors."

Prongs snorted and took off into the woods, Harry grateful that sending a Patronus messenger took a lot less energy than using one to drive off dementors.

"Are you sure that was a good idea?"

He shrugged. They waited in silence. Harry gave Hermione his invisibility cloak, and after a few minutes, they heard the murmur of voices, and felt the chill of dementors.

Harry said, "Do you think it's the same dementors as before? As if they worked up their courage to follow us?"

"Must be. There can't be two groups this size based at the school."

Meaning the dementors whose attack had caused them to go back in time had only found them in the first place because after they'd gone back in time they'd led them to their cycle 1 selves.

Harry resolved not to think about it and prepared to cast his Patronus again, if necessary.

Harry heard Snape's clear and firm incantation, followed by cycle 1 Harry shouting it. They glimpsed the silver Patronuses through the trees, a distant part of Harry's mind noting how unfitting it was that Snape's Patronus was a doe, and with the owl-like vision Hermione's spell had granted him, he saw a rat round the trunk of the Scots Pine.

Harry said _"Stupefy,"_ at the same moment Hermione said, _"Petrificus Totalus,"_ and in a moment of mutually perfect aim that surprised them both, both spells hit. Harry followed it up with, _"Accio Pettigrew."_

The unconscious rat flew through the air toward him, he caught it, Hermione threw the invisibility cloak over them, and cycle 1 Harry came around the tree.

A moment later, cycle 1 Hermione bumped into him, put the chain of the Time Turner around cycle one Harry's neck, turned the hourglass, and they disappeared.

"Lumos," said Hermione, and they looked at the rat. Definitely Scabbers, one toe missing and all. Harry dropped it in the jar, Hermione screwed the lid on tight, and they ran back onto the road, Harry shouting that they'd caught Pettigrew and had him jarred.

Snape said only, "Potter, if need be, can you cast that Patronus again?"

"I think so." He checked on Black, who was still struggling against his strapping, and therefore hadn't been killed or kissed. He wondered if Snape hadn't been serious about his threat to let the dementors at him. Or if he had been, and it was Harry's Patronus that had saved Black.

"It's alright," said Harry to Black. "We should be at the castle soon."

Flame flashed behind them, disappeared, and in a second flash of flame right among them, Albus Dumbledore appeared. His eyes stopped on Sirius Black, and he said, "Well done. Severus. When we get back to the castle, fetch veritaserum. I have questions for him before he is turned over to the Ministry.

Snape said, "About that. As much as it pains me to admit, the situation may be more complicated than we thought."

Hermione held up the jar. "Professor Dumbledore. This is Peter Pettigrew. He's a rat animagus. According to Black, they switched Secret Keepers without your knowing."

Dumbledore looked from the rat to Black and back to the rat. He paled, and he looked very old and very tired.

#

#

It happened in the hospital wing, and Harry got to see almost all of it. Fudge, who'd only recently left, was called back, but with several Aurors in tow, including a terrifying man with a peg leg and an artificial eye with a life of its own.

Fudge looked with some astonishment at Pettigrew, who had been returned to human form and bound by spells that would prevent him from transforming.

First, in a flat, unemotional voice, Snape recounted his version of events. Apparently he'd seen the flash of spells striking the Whomping Willow and had gone to investigate. Finding the Willow still frozen, he'd gone up the secret passage beneath its roots. His version of the Shrieking Shack and the dementor attack was, Harry had to admit, factual, if slanted. To hear Snape tell it, he'd given Black a knife purely to judge his intentions, confident in his ability to subdue Black if necessary.

Black assented readily to veritaserum, and gave a much more detailed version of what he'd told them in the Shrieking Shack, affirming that he hadn't been the Secret Keeper for even a full day before they'd transferred the Secret to Pettigrew, and he'd never killed anyone except, 'Some Death Eaters in the war, and it was self-defence or near enough.'

Apparently, until he'd seen Scabbers on Ron's shoulder in the Daily Prophet, he'd thought Pettigrew, never the most competent of fighters, had accidentally blown himself up.

When Black, in recounting his actions since his escape from Azkaban, spoke of buying Harry a Firebolt for Christmas, Hermione gave Ron and Harry very satisfied looks.

Pettigrew, once revived, refused veritaserum. An Auror was sent to fetch someone important, and returned with an old woman in a satin red night robe, slippers, and hair curlers. Between her, Dumbledore and Fudge, they had the legal authority to compel Pettigrew to take veritaserum.

Under its influence, he confirmed all that Black had said, and added on that he'd been a spy for nearly a year before that fateful Halloween night when Voldemort had vanished.

The peg-legged Auror smiled evilly, Black growled, and Fudge asked Snape if it wasn't possible that the dementors had helped catch Pettigrew in some way.

Dumbledore turned to Black and with clear frustration said, "Sirius, you never had a proper trial, and that may in part be my fault, but you had a hearing. Why did you do nothing at it but laugh maniacally?"

Harry had never imagined that Albus Dumbledore might vent or dodge responsibility, but he also thought it was a damn good question.

Black muttered that he'd been in shock.

"If you had said Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper, I wouldn't have believed you, but I would've looked into it."

Fudge clapped Dumbledore on the shoulder. "It doesn't reflect well on anyone, I know. Fortunately, I wasn't involved. But chin up, old chap. Having Lord Black cleared of charges will buck up your faction in the Wizengamot, assuming he's still one of yours."

If looks could kill, Fudge would've died, but Fudge didn't even notice.

Dumbledore said the real concern was that an innocent had spent 12 years in Azkaban, and Fudge wondered aloud how the papers would 'handle that aspect.'

Upon being asked, Harry gave his version of events, saying nothing of hippogriffs, Time Turners, maps or invisibility cloaks. They'd been out after curfew because they'd gotten to talking and had been so caught up in it they hadn't even noticed the sun setting.

When pressed on that, Hermione took over, and admitted that she, Harry and Ron had been 'having some drama,' and they'd been 'working it out,' and without quite saying so, implied that there'd been tears, shouting, and even hexing involved.

No one said anything of Buckbeak. Harry expected that an escaped hippogriff was the last thing on Fudge's mind.

Ron, on his hospital bed, was asked if he wanted to press charges over Black mangling his leg, and Ron, still in shock over his rat having been a wizard, said no.

According to the Minister, Snape would get an Order of Merlin First Class, and Harry, Hermione and Ron would all get orders of Merlin Second Class, which, though there was no attached stipend, did carry a modest cash prize.

Harry, who did not think that the distribution of awards made very much sense, asked if Sirius Black shouldn't get an award for breaking out of Azakaban for the express purpose of catching an Death Eater who'd escaped justice.

Fudge said he'd think about it.

Harry and the others were told to go to bed. Harry nodded and took a step toward Black, who was overwhelmed by the news that he'd likely be exonerated at the end of an abbreviated legal process, and attempted a smile as Harry approached.

Harry noted that, in addition to a hair cut and a lot of square meals, Black needed his teeth cleaned.

Harry said, "Er, thanks for the Firebolt."

"Only right, after all the Christmases I missed." He hesitated, then said, "I guess you know already, but I'm your godfather."

"I knew."

"Well... your parents appointed me you guardian," said Black, stiffly. "If anything happened to them..."

Harry waited. Did Black mean what he thought he meant?

"I'll understand of course if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle, but... well... think about it. Once my name's cleared. If you want a... different home..."

Some sort of explosion took place in the pit of Harry's stomach.

"What—live with you? Leave the Dursleys?"

"Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," said Black quickly. "I understand. I just thought I'd-"

If there hadn't been so many others there, including Snape, Minister Fudge, and the important woman in a night robe and hair curlers, Harry would've responded colorfully. As it was, he leaned in and said softly, "The sooner the better. We'll talk more later, but the sooner the better."

Harry let himself be sent to bed, smiling all the while.

:::

All is well?

Canonically, the last day of exams during 3rd-year is June 6th. June 6th of 1994 is a Monday. Which means they have a few days of exams, a weekend, and then the final day? Or they took exams right through the weekend? Or J.K. didn't look at a calendar to check? Or she was so enraptured by 06/06 being the day Pettigrew escaped to go find Voldemort that she told the calendar to screw off?

I think she told the calendar to screw off. idk. On June 6th, 1994, the moon was a crescent. However, plotwise, on that day, the moon is full. The moon was full on June 6th of 1993. Is it possible JK was looking at the calendar for 1993? But every source I've seen says Harry started at Hogwarts in the 1991-1992 school year, which means his third year should be 1993-1994, so June of his 3rd year should definitely be 1994.


	9. Chapter 9: Epilogue

**Ch 9: Epilogue**

It was the first time Harry had been able to properly enjoy the closing activities that filled the week between the end of exams and going home. Those activities included, more than anything, a lot of free-time, and in that free-time, the predicted hashing out with Ron took place.

It was not tearful, as he'd feared, but there was sniffling.

Ron said, "Sorry. I've been meaning to say sorry for weeks now. Everyone says I messed up. Hagrid, Fred and George, Ginny, Percy, Dean and Seamus. Lavender. And they're right. I shouldn't have gotten mad about the broom and I shouldn't have said that stuff when you two started dating. I had every right to be upset about you and Harry dropping Divination without telling me, but I guess we weren't really talking then, and I had the right to be angry about Scabbers, but I probably took it a little far, and obviously it's turned out he was alive and a wizard, but I didn't know that."

"A little far?" said Harry.

Hermione nudged him, and he quieted.

Hermione said, "What in particular are you apologizing for? Saying that I was crying on purpose? Saying that I only wanted to be girlfriend to the Boy-Who-Lived? Asking Harry if he couldn't have found anyone prettier?"

"All of it," said Ron.

"Alright," said Hermione, extending a hand.

Ron shook it, smiling broadly.

His smiled faded when Hermione said, "We're not best friends again. Maybe we'll become best friends again, but saying sorry doesn't make me forget five months of you being a complete git."

Ron said, "I haven't bothered you for at least a month. So it's four months of being a git."

"That makes it so much better," said Hermione, but her exasperation sounded very slightly amused, and Harry thought they'd be best friends again by the end of the train ride home. It was lucky for Ron they'd all ended up in another life threatening circumstance together.

Ron said, "I'm just sensitive over you always saying I'm stupid."

"I don't say that. Well, I did when you were screaming at me about Scabbers, but I don't say it normally."

"You suggest it."

"If you'd pay attention to what I say, you'd know I don't say that."

Harry said, "Sorry, Hermione, but you do, kind of. Even to me sometimes, but not as much." He turned to Ron. "But it's only when we deserve it."

Ron said, "Or when I say I don't like reading school books for fun. Who the bloody hell reads school books for fun?"

Hermione said, "I do, Ronald. Many of them are quite fascinating. If you'd just take an interest-"

"See, that's what I'm talking about. I'm not interested, and you can't make me be."

Hermione said, "You always interrupt me when I'm-"

"I don't interrupt you! You interrupt me!"

"You just interrupted me!"

Harry said, "Can we not fight? Let's just agree that no one's perfect, not even Hermione, and, you, Ron, were unusually, notably far from perfect much of this year, and you're sorry about it?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "That. Sorry."

Hermione said, "I'm sorry too. For making you feel stupid and saying you were jealous of Harry. I know I can be condescending sometimes, if you know what that means, and from now on I promise to try harder not to be."

Harry said, "Good. And we'll all be very polite and try not to say hurtful things."

Ron said, "Merlin, Harry, hurtful things? You've been spending too much time with Hermione. You sound like a poofter."

Harry and Hermione shared a glance.

Hermione clasped Ron's hands and said, "Ron, poofter is a very rude word. You should say homosexual, or gay. Whatever the world around us thinks, there's nothing wrong with being gay, and accepting that may be the first step to accepting yourself."

Ron asked what the bloody hell she meant by that, and Hermione refused to explain in anything but vague allusions. As they argued, Harry reflected that all was right with the world.

And as the closing week continued, all did seem right with the world. When Dumbledore handed out points for helping catch a Death Eater who'd been hiding out in the school, Gryffindor was guaranteed the house cup. It turned out that Order of Merlin Second Class included a hundred galleon prize. Ron said he'd get a broom, and Hermione said she'd a get portable library.

The results to the exams came, and Harry felt a rush of pleasure. His first year, his marks had been good. His second, they hadn't taken the exams at all, owing to the Chamber of Secrets, but he suspected that if they had taken them, he wouldn't have done so well as his first year, owing to the Chamber, and also to the fact that study buddy Hermione had been petrified during exam season.

His third year, his marks were even better than his first year. One grade in particular astonished him.

An E in Ancient Runes. An E. An actual E. He'd been praying for an A, expecting a P. He handed the results to Hermione, pointed to the box for Runes, and said, "Do you think it's a misprint?"

"First of all, Harry, these aren't printed, they're written by enchanted quills. And no, I don't think it's an error. You were working very hard and never studied for it with anyone but me, so you never realized that in the first term, most of the students were a little hazy on the differences between Elder Furthark and Old Icelandic B-Side and wouldn't have known Neo-Dwarfic if it bit them on the elbow."

"You mean I didn't have to study that hard?"

"If you hadn't, you'd only have an A, so aren't you glad you did?"

"No," said Harry. "I'm glad I got an E, but I would've rather studied less and gotten an A."

"You don't mean that," said Hermione.

"I do. But in a week, when the studying's a fond memory, I won't mean it anymore." Having said that, he returned to the Daily Prophet, a publication he'd hardly ever read before, but it had everything he wanted to know about the Sirius Black case.

When it came to resolving national embarrassments and getting them quickly out of the news cycle, the Wizengamot was nothing if not swift, and before the week was out, Black was exonerated, and Pettigrew convicted, started on the long, slow and expensive process of being stripped of his animagus abilities before being shipped to Azkaban.

So on the afternoon of the closing feast, Dumbledore in attendance, Black came to Hogwarts. Harry met them in the relative privacy of the Covered Bridge, with birdsong for company, and Black was wearing fine new robes, his hair cut, body and teeth cleaned, and already with noticeably more flesh on his bones. Potions, he explained, and told Harry to call him Sirius as they shook hands.

Dumbledore said it would better to let Harry's legal guardianship stay with the Dursleys at least through the summer, but thought Harry might spend the last few weeks of summer with Sirius. Provided that Sirius acquired a safe, hygienic and well-warded home and completed a rehabilitation program with certified mind healers.

Harry thought he'd rather live in a hut than with a madman than live with the Dursleys. But, talking with Sirius, it wasn't hard to see why he needed quality time with mind healers, which he likely wouldn't get with Harry underfoot, so he resigned himself to spending at least the first month of the summer with the Dursleys.

Practical matters concluded, Dumbledore up and left, leaving them alone, and awkwardness descended.

"So," said Black. How's school?"

"Oh, er, it's good. I like Defence and Charms. Transfiguration, Herbology and Astronomy are okay. Care wasn't as good as it could've been, History is boring and Potions is painful, but I think those are more on the teachers than the subject. Runes was hard but I'm glad I took it."

Black said, "I hear Snivellus, I mean, Snape, teaches Potions. Dumbledore says he's a good man and was a spy against the Death Eaters and told me to apologize, but I say he's Snivellus, and if he was a spy, he spied for his own Snivelly reasons. He gives you trouble? I'll prank him for it."

"Don't," said Harry. "It would just make it worse. He's sarcastic and he gives me detentions, but that's all." It was a little more than that, and he loved the idea of Sirius pranking Snape, but he didn't want Sirius getting in any trouble and maybe not being seen as a fit guardian.

Harry said, "I mean, I talk back to him in class a little. And I did accuse him to other Professors of trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone for Voldemort, and it turned out he was trying to protect it. And my friends and I stole ingredient from him so we could brew polyjuice potion in the bathroom and sneak into the Slytherin dorms, and I think he figured out it was us even if he couldn't prove it. That was after I'd lied to him about how'd I'd found Mrs. Norris petrified. And Ron and I insult him a lot and sometimes he overhears us. And one time, while he was trying to save my life, my friend Hermione, you met her, she set him on fire. On purpose. So you can see why he might not like us."

Harry blinked, because it hadn't ever occurred to him that Snape might have a legitimate reason to dislike him, but that was a long list he'd come up with off the top of his head.

Sirius Black burst into laughter and looked immensely pleased. "Set him on fire. James and I never went that far. Sounds as if you're growing up right. Tell me about it."

So Harry told him about it. About the Stone in his first year, and about the Chamber of Secrets in his second and the whole Heir of Slytherin business.

When he was done, Sirius shook his head. "I'd think you were taking the mickey out of me if Dumbledore hadn't given me the general outline. And this year you thought I was out for your blood the whole time. It's a miracle you've got time for class."

"Yeah, well..." feeling sheepish and giddy, he pulled his report out of a pocket. He'd never shown his marks to an adult before, but he'd brought them, having an idea that a godfather might want to look at them.

Sirius took the report, surprised for a moment as he realized what it was, then sad. He examined Harry's marks closely.

Sirius said, "First, my James impression. What I think James would say." He ran a hand through his hair and motioned as if adjusting glasses, and his voice, when he spoke, was deeper and smoother. "Bloody well done, Harry. And you did this along with winning the Quidditch cup. A regular chip off the old block. We'll go out for dinner. But try to buck up your Transfiguration scores, that's always been my favorite. Why don't we take a family vacation to the Netherlands or Norway, somewhere the Restriction Against Underage Magic is more sensible, and I'll give you some pointers."

Sirius backed up, rolled his shoulders, and said, "And now my Lily impression." He thrust his chest forward, mimed brushing hair from his eyes, and in a bad falsetto, Sirius said, "Nicely done, Harry, but I know you can do better. I suppose it's Quidditch's fault. Sports are a wholesome hobby, but Quidditch really ought to have more precautions in place, and many students spend far too much time and energy on Quidditch when they ought to be learning. I'll write to Minerva and suggest a restriction on the number of hours house-teams can practice. No more than four hours a week."

It was ridiculous and should've made him laugh, but as Sirius continued in that falsetto, Harry got a little misty-eyed. "Too bad you couldn't take Arithmancy, but I suppose with Quidditch you didn't have the time. And what is this potions score? I know you accused Severus of capital crimes to his colleagues, and your friend set him on fire, but that isn't any reason to grade you unfairly. I'll speak to him about it. But overall, it's good. We're very proud of you."

Sirius rubbed his throat and raised an eyebrow, impression concluded.

Harry smiled, and even laughed a little to show he appreciated the impressions, though he did not feel much like laughing. That was far and away the clearest idea anyone had ever given him of what his parents had been like.

Sirius said, "But enough of that. I need to chase down Moony."

"You mean Professor Lupin?"

"Professor? He's a Professor? Of course he is, what else could Dumbledore have meant when he said he worked here? Well done, Moony! See, he's hiding. He does that. He's all ashamed he believed I was the traitor, and all ashamed he never visited me in Azkaban. So he's been avoiding me. Didn't come to the trial. So now he's also ashamed of having avoided me. So he'll avoid me even more. And the more he's ashamed of avoiding me, the more he'll avoid me, to avoid the shame of avoiding me, you see, and so he'll never see me. That's Moony. It's comforting. Haven't seen him in 12 years and I can already tell he hasn't changed. I better find him soon or there's no knowing how far his head will get up his ass."

Harry took out the Marauder's Map.

#

#

The journey on the train to Platform nine and three-quarters was a pleasant one. Malfoy came by and said something about an insane godfather being a poor substitute for parents, but the best he'd ever have, and Harry was so pleased by Malfoy's assumption that he'd start living with Sirius eventually that he nearly smiled.

Ron started lobbing insults just in time to save him from the error.

When Malfoy left, Harry related Sirius and Lupin's meeting to Hermione and Ron, and how the awkwardness had swiftly passed, and Lupin would probably move in with Sirius later, though Sirius was staying with a cousin for at least a couple of weeks.

Ron said, "Did you hear the rumor that Lupin's a werewolf? Bloody ridiculous. He's the best Defence Professor we've had, not some mangy savage."

Harry said, "Mangy savages? Aren't werewolves just folks who got bit by the wrong thing? You just got a bit by a big dog-man creature. Imagine if it had been a werewolf. You'd be a werewolf too."

Ron said that werewolves didn't bite proper wizards, and the bite changed them anyway, and Ron and Hermione had a loud argument about werewolves, in which Ron kept making the point that she'd know better if she'd ever met a werewolf.

Harry decided to wait on telling Ron until they knew for sure if Lupin had really been outed. Not that he liked keeping secrets from Ron, but it wasn't his secret to tell.

As the train ate the miles, Harry and Hermione began to hold hands, conscious of their looming separation. Ron looked for a moment as if he would tease them over it, but thought better of it.

The train pulled into the station, and Harry helped Hermione with her trunk. Her hand brushed his, and he felt as jittery as he had the day after their first kiss.

They stepped onto the platform, stopped just outside the train's doors.

"So..." said Hermione, biting her lower lip.

Harry wanted to kiss her more than he ever had before, but they only ever kissed in private. He wished they'd stayed in the train car for a few minutes and kissed in private.

Their eyes met, and they leaned in close, forehead to forehead.

Ron shook his head at them, muttered about lovebirds and nausea, waved goodbye, and went to find his siblings.

"This is goodbye, for awhile." said Hermione.

"See you over the summer?" said Harry.

"At the Weasleys'?"

"I don't know. I might be with Sirius. But I'll definitely see you. Even if it's just a day trip."

"You'd better," she said, and licked her lips.

In public or not, they kissed. A kiss that held all their time spent as each others' only company, the sense, of danger, their adventures and secrets, fear they'd gone too far, their wish they'd gone further, all their longing, the sweet pain of parting. A kiss that-

"Wait, wait, wait, hold on!"

The kiss broke, and Harry looked at an astonished Sirius.

Harry said, "What?"

"You're kissing her!"

"She is my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Sirius wiped a fake tear from his eyes. "They grow up so fast. You are a third-year, aren't you? I'm not confused about that? That was hot and heavy for third-years."

Harry said, "I just finished my third year."

"Good. You'd be a runty fourth-year. And you, Hermione, I think it was, you're a third-year too?"

Harry said, "We're the same age."

Hermione said, "We're in the same year, but actually, I'm about ten months older."

"An older woman," said Sirius. "Even better. I've never been so proud of my godson."

Hermione said, "You've only just met him."

"Honey, no godfather's ever been so proud of his godson. So, when's the wedding?"

Harry groaned. He'd had enough of this from the twins. "Probably in ten to twenty years, and I don't know who to."

Sirius said, "How long have you two...?" He pressed his index fingers together, motioning as if his fingers were kissing.

Harry groaned again and said, "End of January."

Hermione said, "January 24th. And you should remember that, Harry. Our six month anniversary is next Friday. I hadn't mentioned it before, what, with the Sirius Black matter, and I don't care very much about those arbitrary milestones, but still. Owl me."

Bemused, Sirius said, "Six months. That is a marriage by third-year standards."

Hermione glared at him, and they went through the barrier together into the crowds of Kings Cross.

Hermione's head was on a swivel, looking for her parents, but she spotted a different, less familiar figure first.

Hermione nudged Harry and pointed to Uncle Vernon, purple-faced and glowering.

Sirius said, "Is that...?"

"That's my Uncle Vernon."

"Capital," said Sirius, and walked straight toward Vernon, Harry and Hermione hurrying in pursuit, Harry worrying, because while he hadn't told Sirius much about his aunt and uncle, he had given Sirius the general idea.

Vernon took a step back as Sirius neared, and Sirius smiled when Uncle Vernon didn't shake his extended hand.

"My name is Sirius Black. I'm Harry's godfather. You haven't seen me these past 12 years because I've been in prison for a murder they've just worked out I didn't commit. They don't care any about the murders I did commit. Though murder isn't the right word for those, because they were all self-defence, more or less. I'm not sure when I'll be able to take over guardianship, due to some lingering legal matters, questions of my mental stability, you see, but I'll be watching, so take good care of my godson, you hear?"

Uncle Vernon turned very pale and trembled. Harry had never seem him do that before.

Sirius leaned in and whispered furiously to Uncle Vernon, who gave a reply Harry didn't catch.

Hermione gave Harry a final hug and whispered, "Best year ever?"

Staring into her cinnamon brown eyes, Harry thought of freeing Sirius and catching Pettigrew. Of talks with Lupin, learning the Patronus, and winning the Quidditch. But mostly he thought of Hermione. Of conversations, and hours in the common room just being next to her, and the shape of her hand in his. "Best year so far," Harry corrected. "Next year will be even better."

And it was.

:::

Whoo! It's done. I reserve the right to use any of this for Mentordora if I feel like it.

It's safe to say that if "fourth-year is even better," Voldemort doesn't come back at the end of it. Whether that's because he's stopped by a more communicative Harry, Hermione and even Ron, or because, without Pettigrew, the whole tri-wizard resurrection plot doesn't take place, I leave up to you.

Any ideas I have for fourth-year will be saved for GoM and Mentordora, which are worryingly similar as it is.

I have a couple latter-year fluff scenes in mind which might fit this, but I don't know if I'll write them.

I don't know if this Harry and Hermione would really be together forever, but if I wrote them breaking up, I'd then write them getting back together.

I still don't think I'm good at romance, but I'm improving?

If you've enjoyed this, please go to Amazon, select the books department, and get Monstrosity, by JLL (L, J L). It's only 99 cents, and it really is pretty good. If you happen to review it, that'll be a precious fact to me for years.


End file.
